A Mighty Passion Volume 2: I Solemnly Swear
by amightypassion
Summary: Sand and Torio get recruited for a risky mission to their old home of Luskan. They must recover a magical map, assassinate its maker and make it out alive. Adult scenarios and situations. Reader discretion advised. Reviews always appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors' note**:

This Volume 2 picks up from where Volume 1 "In Vino Veritas" leaves off but can be read as a book on its own. The occasional references to Volume 1 are made but will not impact the overall story arc.

We apologize for the mangled languages.

We used several different translators and dialects and pieced them together as best we could.

The story is put together from individual Sand and Torio posts hence the unique back and forth style. While each author has a general idea of where the storyline is going, each post and response is entirely a surprise to the receiving writer in an attempt to give the story a realistic unpredictable flow while maintaining the nature of the characters.

* * *

**Volume 2, Part I: Will or Action, Word or Deed**

"Do you need help finding your way, my lord?"

Vale waved a hand at the young Greycloak that solicited him as he walked through the gate. "No, young man, I can find my way." He'd been here before, after all... "But, if you could direct me to where the wizard Sand might be, at this hour?"

The Greycloak scratched his head quizzically. "I think the Library or the basement, my lord."

Vale smiled slightly. "My thanks." He turned and strode up to the Keep's doors, breezing past the guards standing there; the last time he had come through the doors had been magically barred shut, and some of his mages had died. Now the doors had been repaired and were intricately carved and polished, gleaming in the dull evening air. He turned down a side hallway and took the steps leading to the basement, calling as he walked downwards, "Wizard!"

Sand looked up from the book he was reading while leaning against his bench. The voice hailing him was familiar. He took a tentative step towards the stairs and recognized Vale. He put the book down. "Ah, my lord. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

_A routine inspection of all magical goods and wares? _He was fairly certain he had paid the yearly tax on all magic users in the city... A little part of him wondered if they had discovered he had been suppressing the bracelet's enchantments but he kept his face impassively polite.

Vale nodded courteously at him. "It is Sand, isn't it? You worked in the Docks." His voice was flat, no indication of his personal opinion on Sand's recent occupation evident in his voice. "Lord Nasher has sent me here to...escort the former Luskan Ambassador to Neverwinter." His clear eyes regarded Sand coolly. "And yourself, as well."

He glanced around the basement for a moment, empty except for himself and the other elf. "I shall wait for you to prepare for departure; a teleport spell should get us back to Neverwinter quickly enough, but I must dispel most of the Ambassador's enchantment before we leave, in order to bring her as well." He nodded at Sand. "I shall wait for you and the woman here." So saying, the elf folded his arms into the wide sleeves of his robes and shut his eyes, leaning back against the wall.

Sand's heart gave a skip.

_Gods be damned._

_We've been found out._

_They're going to hang us._

He merely nodded at Vale and left the basement of the Keep. When he was out of view from the other mage Sand bolted towards the Library. Bursting in, he spotted Torio at her usual spot at the table (_the_ table) and Aldanon speaking to one of the many rats that occasionally raided the pantries.

"Torio! Vale - here!" He dispelled his dampening spells, sending the enchantments back to her. "He wants to take us to see Nasher in Neverwinter." He could barely keep the panic out of his voice.

Torio looked up in surprise, blinking rapidly from staring down at the tome in front of her for the last few hours; the spells were dispelled so quickly she let out an undignified gasp as they thudded back into her body, and she took a few moments to register was Sand was saying.

_Vale._

She remembered him; he'd been the only calm, dispassionate voice in the myriad of unhappy, vindictive faces when they had brought her chained and shackled to the Cloaktower. The bracelet had been in his hand when she had first seen him...

"He's...here?" She hissed, her face paling rapidly. Then, "_Neverwinter_?" She stood slowly, gripping the edge of the table for a moment. _It was bound to happen, they'd been sneaking around for so long; someone had to notice something sooner or later...that assassin..._Her eyes darted to Sand's face. "He didn't say _why_we need to leave?"

Sand shook his head. "No - just that we were to prepare our things and meet him in the basement." His mind was racing. "Here's what I'll say. Since the attack on the Keep, we realized that you not being able to leave meant that any attack here would essentially trap you to your own doom. So I came up with the dispelling methods simply as a method to provide you with a means of escaping another attack on the Keep."

He glanced at Aldanon, who was speaking to a second rat that had joined the first one; he lowered his voice in any case. "Bring anything you need to defend yourself, just in case... I'll meet at the top of the stairs and we'll go downstairs together."

Torio glanced behind her to where Aldanon was talking amiably to a pair of rather fiendish looking rats, and then nodded, her mouth tightening slightly. She turned and brushed past Sand, barely touching her fingertips to his palm to steady herself as she strode out of the Library door.

In her room, she looked around wildly; what in gods name could Nasher want with them? _Besides hanging us for treasonous acts, of course_. She slid the bootknife into a garter and pulled it up around her thigh, then took down a long, elegant looking travel cloak from her bureau. She shoved the stack of parchments on her desk down into the drawers before locking them shut, and picked up the folded note from Kurth...

They were the last friendly Luskan words she had, but if someone came looking through her room while she was gone...and in Nevalle's current state of mind she could almost guarantee someone would...

She cursed as she held it over the flickering lamp flame on her desk, watching the parchment curl in on itself and burn into dust. Blowing out the light, she pulled the cloak around her shoulders and slipped out of her door, hurrying towards the basement.

Sand ran as quickly as was dignified to his room. He tossed his traveling pack on his bed and began throwing in every potion, wand, scroll he had in the room. He quickly changed into his traveling clothes, hiding the locket with the ariik gem underneath his undershirt. He picked up Jaral and stroked him behind the ears for a moment. "Elanee will feed you, boy."

He slung the pack over his shoulder, listening to the glassware clinking and left his room, locking it and casting a protective glyph on the door. He ran into Torio at the top of the basement stairs. "Wait." He glanced around and without further word, kissed her fully on the mouth. For all he knew, that would be the last act they would have together...

"Mmmph.." Sand's kiss was brief, and hard; her fingers twitched forward, clenching in his robes and gripping the fabric tightly for a moment as his mouth pressed against hers... Then they were standing apart again, and she swallowed hard past the constriction that tightened her throat. She stared at him for a long moment...

"Ladies first," she said hoarsely, and swept down the stairs, her heart sinking with every step.

Sand opened his mouth - was about to call out "Wait!" again and...

...and what?

Detail a poorly thought-out and tremendously risky escape plan?

Ask for another kiss? A quick love session behind some tapestry?

Tell her something else, something important, something utterly foolish?

Instead, he followed her silently down the stairs, back to where Vale was waiting. "We're ready."

Vale opened one eye as Torio appeared, Sand following quickly on her heels. "Very well." He straightened and stepped out into the room, gesturing to the elf and the human. "Stand by me, please."

As they neared him, he reached out, taking Torio's braceletted hand. "Hold still please, Ambassador," he said evenly, and shut his eyes, incanting...

Torio's throat was dry; she wanted to rather illogically reach out and clasp Sand's hand. _Was he going to torture her, right here, right now? What was..._

POP!

She let out a startled cry as a huge, heavy weight was lifted off of her body, and drew in a deep, surprised breath.

Vale nodded at her. "You are now able to leave the keep. However, there are still...other enchantments, that will remain for the time being." He released Torio's hand, and, shutting his eyes, began casting...

When Sand realized Vale was casting a _Teleport_ spell, he reached out and grasped Torio's hand lest he accidentally get left behind or worst - misteleporting and ending up some place unpleasant like Icewind Dale...

The spell sucked the trio through a strange spinning tunnel and Sand closed his eyes, feeling thoroughly nauseated. Torio's hand was warm in his and he squeezed it reassuringly. They landed with a hard thump on a cold stone floor.

Torio swayed dizzily as the Cloaktower's interior materialized around them, her feet stinging slightly from the impact on stone. She was clutching at Sand's hand almost painfully, but instantly released it once she realized where they were.

_The last time she'd been here..._

She schooled her face into some semblance of calm as Vale turned to them.

The mage said flatly, "You will have to cover your face, Ambassador. Your hood, please? It would be difficult to protect you if the citizens of this city knew you as yourself in the streets." He watched as Torio pulled the hood of her cloak up around her face, and then nodded to her and Sand. "Follow me." He turned and led them through the winding passage that spilled them out into the Blacklake District, walking swiftly towards the Castle.

Sand followed Vale through the city. "Would it be possible to know what this is about? Do the Knight Captains know we're here?" He realized he hadn't even notified anybody, including Nevalle, where the two of them were off to.

Vale glanced back at Sand as they walked. "Your Knight Captains and Sir Nevalle have been informed that you and the Ambassador are here; do not worry yourself over that." The large gates to Castle Never were opened, and he gestured for them to enter ahead of him, following after as the doors shut behind them once more with a CLANG! of finality.

Torio's breath caught nervously in her throat as they walked down the long, long entrance hall; once they were away from the open streets of Neverwinter she pulled her hood back, her face pale and drawn in the torchlight. She remained silent as they entered the throne room without the usual grand announcement from the page boy; a shifting glance told her the lad wasn't there.

There was no one in the throne room at all, in fact, except for her, Sand, Vale...and Lord Nasher, sitting on the dais in front of them.

Sand glanced around, noting the eerie silence of the throne room. He inhaled deeply and followed Vale to the throne, bowing low. "My lord, Nasher."

Lord Nasher nodded at Vale. "You may go. I will send them to you and Gend when I have finished with them." He sat back in his throne and eyed the two before him. Two of among the least trustworthy people in his service and yet he was going to give them a task that required the utmost trust.

"Sand. Your continued vigilance and work at Crossroad Keep deserves to be commended. On behalf of the people of Neverwinter, I thank you."

He paused when he turned to Torio. "Torio. You will excuse me for not using your former title of Ambassador as you no longer represent Luskan. I never expected to see you here again but it appears Neverwinter is in need of you. And the wizard here as well. You have little choice in the matter but you will have help."

Torio bowed stiffly. "Lord Nasher," she said evenly. Her spirits practically soared as she realized that they weren't going to be hanged. _Immediately_. But...the tone of his voice didn't warrant a complete lack of suspicion. "What would you have of your _humble_servant?"

Nasher let Torio's impertinent remark slide by. The Luskan had her uses and in this aspect, for this task, part of her use was that she was expendable. "There is an artifact in Luskan which we require you to retrieve or destroy. Have you heard of the Scales of the Sphinx? It is a map, drawn or enchanted on the hides of a sphinx, capable of revealing a person's identity and location. A Luskan, by the name of Orban Asrar, has enchanted it to reveal the identities and locations of all of Neverwinter's spies." He stopped, letting the information sink in.

"We also need you to dispose of Orban Asrar. It poses a significant threat to our operations. You - Torio - will go because you are familiar with the Hosttower, the Arcane Brotherhood - the ways of Luskan. Sand, you are also familiar with Luskan - you will go to aid and protect Torio but also because the map requires the touch of a mage to be discerned and activated. I cannot spare any one of the Cloaktower mages on this task."

He stood. "Vale and Aarin Gend will provide you with goods, equipment and more specific information. Do not fail in this task; if you are discovered - we will deny all knowledge of you and will publicly declare your actions as treasonous, against the good policies of Neverwinter's peace treaties with Luskan. You will be buried in the Tomb of the Betrayers. If you succeed then I am not averse to giving you both a fair reward."

Nasher held up a jeweled hand. "Sand, Torio - approach me and swear fealty and allegiance to me and my Neverwinter in this task and be bound to it under penalty of death." He chuckled. "And swear allegiance to each other, Counselors, though I am certain you loath to do so - that you will protect each other as best as possible for the duration of the task."

Sand was beginning to realize that because caught tampering with Torio's bracelet and then being hanged was going to be a more pleasant death than the one he was likely going to encounter on this mission.

But it looked like he had no other choice.

_Under penalty of death._

How often had he joked about this?

_The gods were surely laughing._

He approached Nasher and kneeled, saying the oath every citizen of Neverwinter had memorized. "I trust the judgment of my King and Lord Nasher Alagondar and will show this trust by performing those duties that my King and Lord commands in order to further the goals of Neverwinter with alacrity and obedience." He kissed the rings on Nasher's fingers. "I place my life, body, mind and heart at the defense of Neverwinter." He kissed the rings again. "I solemnly swear this oath, until my King and Lord Nasher Alagondar releases me, or death takes me, or the world ends." There was a bitter taste in the back of his mouth.

Nasher answered Sand's oath, "Sand of Neverwinter, I accept your service. In return I swear to send protection, succor and aid in times of misfortune, to extend this aid to any members of your family residing in Neverwinter or its surrounding lands, to equip you with the means to effectively protect and defend Neverwinter and her people and to use always my best judgment in matters concerning the well-being of the kingdom. I swear to treat you with honor, respect, fairness and justice. I swear to grant those boons that are within my power and that do no interfere with the goals of Neverwinter." He eyed the moon elf kneeling at his feet.

"I swear, Sand, to reward hard work with abundance, loyalty with love, skill with respect, and oath-breaking with death. I do solemnly swear to honor this oath until I choose to release you from it, or until I die, or until the world end." He pulled his hand away from the wizard. "You may stand now, Sand. Torio Claven, approach me and swear your oath. And then when that is done, swear an oath of protection and loyalty to each other."

Torio tasted ashes on her tongue. _An oath._ It was to be expected, when dealing with espionage; to swear loyalty, to bind one's self, heart and mind and soul; _and to be shucked conveniently if the enemy finds you out._

She walked forward, her cloak rustling against her skirts, and knelt, her mouth drawn in a taught line. "I trust the judgment of my King and Lord Nasher Alagondar and will show this trust by performing those duties that my King and Lord commands in order to further the goals of Neverwinter with alacrity and obedience." Her voice was hollow, but steady; Nasher's fingers were cool as she pressed her lips around the ring on his hand. "I place my life, body, mind and heart at the defense of Neverwinter." Her body had been her tool for so long, it was of little consequence pledging it to anyone's service, let alone Neverwinter's; and her mind would always be her own, regardless of words spoken.

_Her heart..._

_You don't have one. The words are meaningless._

And yet they settled on her, heavy and firm, as she spoke. "I solemnly swear this oath, until my King and Lord Nasher Alagondar releases me, or death takes me, or the world ends." _Maybe you do have a heart, Claven_. She refused to let her eyes dart to Sand's form next to her. _Maybe you simply no longer possess it._

She released Nasher's hand, and stood, turning to face Sand expectantly, her face calm and schooled, hiding the turbulence behind her eyes.

Nasher studied Torio critically. "Torio Claven, now of Neverwinter, I accept your service. In return I swear to send protection, succor and aid in times of misfortune, to extend this aid to any members of your family residing in Neverwinter or its surrounding lands, to equip you with the means to effectively protect and defend Neverwinter and her people and to use always my best judgment in matters concerning the well-being of the kingdom. I swear to treat you with honor, respect, fairness and justice. I swear to grant those boons that are within my power and that do no interfere with the goals of Neverwinter."

"I swear to reward hard work with abundance, loyalty with love, skill with respect, and oath-breaking with death. I do solemnly swear to honor this oath until I choose to release you from it, or until I die, or until the world end."

"There are magics in this room which make your words binding, Sand, Torio." The King then softened his expression. "But I hope you will find service in Neverwinter rewarding. Consider it for the long term, both of you, if you survive the current mission."

He waved his hand at them. "Your oaths, to each other, Counselors."

Sand took Torio's left hand in his, placing his right hand over her heart and motioned for her to mimic his posture. He could feel the warmth of her skin and the beginning of the slight swell of her breast.

It was funny and ironic. He never thought he'd be swearing an oath of loyalty, saying secret vows to Torio Claven (_in front of Nasher no less_), to promise to protect her, to treat her life as his own, before a dangerous mission that would likely claim both their lives and reputation...

It _was_ funny - because the vows he had toyed with saying to her were similar in their ilk and intention, but was born out of...

_His heart gave a little squeeze._

...affection, rather than ruthless necessity. Sand looked deep into her gray eyes, a part of him realizing that perhaps these would be the only vows he would ever get to exchange with hers.

"I, Sand of Neverwinter, do solemnly swear in the presence of my King and Lord Nasher Alagondar, that from this hour in the future, Torio Claven, now of Neverwinter, I will be true and faithful to you with regard to your life and property, in good faith and without deception. I will help you hold, have and defend against all men and women who might wish to seize or deprive you of body, mind, spirit, freedom or property. I will love all that you love, shun all that you shun, according to the laws of our gods, the laws of Neverwinter and the order of the world."

He inhaled deeply. "Nor will I ever with will or action, through word or deed, do anything which is unpleasing to you, on condition that you will hold to me as I shall deserve it, and that you will perform everything as it was in our exchange when I submitted myself to you and your protection. I do solemnly swear to honor this oath until my Lord and King commands release, or until you choose to release me from it, or until I die, or until you die, or until the world end." Sand found himself nearly clenching Torio's hand painfully as he spoke the final vow, his heart thudding in his chest.

The words chipped at her like tiny, sharp spikes as she stared into the face of her love and nemesis. His fingers were cool and smooth against her skin, a slight warmth building in the palm of his hand from the contact with her body.

_This was madness._

Did she have a choice? The bracelet still clung to her wrist like a limpet. Her only other choice was death.

_That is still a choice._ The dead assassin's words still echoed in her ears._"Weak...pathetic..."_ She should have been willing to die for her cause...the girl certainly had been.

_...it was never your cause..._

She had acted as Garius' servant because it had been advantageous for her to do so, not because the powerful mage had inspired any sort of loyalty in her. And Nasher was no fool; he had used the bracelet because he knew that even with her defection to their side, her loyalties did not suddenly and automatically lie with Neverwinter. She wasn't even positive herself where exactly her loyalties lay, at the moment.

_Except with him..._

Her fingers pressed against his chest as she spoke; somewhere in the back of her mind she realized wryly this would make plotting against the wizard's life a bit difficult from now on. "I, Torio Claven of...of Neverwinter, do solemnly swear in the presence of my King and Lord Nasher Alagondar, that from this hour in the future, Sand of Neverwinter, I will be true and faithful to you with regard to your life and property, in good faith and without deception. I will help you hold, have and defend against all men and women who might wish to seize or deprive you of body, mind, spirit, freedom or property. I will love all that you love, shun all that you shun, according to the laws of our gods, the laws of Neverwinter and the order of the world."

Her voice became quiet...she was having a hard time meeting his eyes, attempting to keep her face smooth of all expression; she wanted rather irrationally to curl her fingers into the robe they pressed against and pull him to her fiercely. _An exchanging of oaths that Lord Nasher would be hard pressed to forget, most likely._ "Nor will I ever with will or action, through word or deed, do anything which is unpleasing to you, on condition that you will hold to me as I shall deserve it, and that you will perform everything as it was in our exchange when I submitted myself to you and your protection. I do solemnly swear to honor this oath until my Lord and King commands release, or until you choose to release me from it, or until I die, or until you...die, or until the world end." In a perfect world, death would still darken her doorstep sooner than his, but with the mission they were about to go on...she released her breath once she finished speaking, her chest tight.

Sand watched her face carefully as she repeated the sacred oaths to him. How would she feel - being bound to him like this?

How did he feel - being bound to her?

He mulled it over. Not too badly actually; in a strange way, it felt oddly right. At least now he would be incapable of activating the Torture spell.

When she finished reciting the oath, he let his fingers linger on her skin for a moment and then took a quick step away, his face cold. No need to give away their secret just because they were now bound to each other. Plenty of time to talk later.

After all - it now appeared they would be traveling alone together, outside of the Keep, away from watchful prying eyes. It was almost like a holiday. A holiday straight into death and doom - but a holiday nevertheless. Sand barely suppressed a bitter chuckle and bowed low at Nasher.

Nasher stood and gestured to a side door. "Vale will be waiting there with supplies for you. He does not know details about your mission and I would advise you keep it that way. Sand, Torio - good luck. The people of Neverwinter - I ...am counting on you."

Torio bowed shortly, and turned, walking swiftly towards the side door leading out of the throne room, hearing Sand's footsteps behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Volume 2, Part II: So Long as They Both Exist**

Vale stood as they entered a small, side antechamber. "Lord Nasher has ordered these things to be prepared for you," he said evenly. He pulled back a long, obscuring piece of cloth, revealing a stretch of items on the table. "He has ordered that you take what you think you need, and suggested that you might need all of it." He gestured; across the table were various small vials filled with many different colored liquids, scrawls of parchment...

"Then all of it we shall take." Sand picked up the different rings and amulets, examining each in turn. Rings of protection, resistance, bracers, necklaces, amulets of health, nearly every scroll or potion imaginable... He swept it all into his sack. He would sort through it later.

Nasher really was concerned about this map.

As Torio walked closer, she saw a forged, familiar Luskan seal embossed in their centers. "Identification papers..." She said mutedly. "Letters of writ, introduction..." Despite her sense of foreboding, her voice took on an impressed inflection. "These are well done."_And they'll get us through the gates..._ But anyone even remotely connected to the Host Tower would recognize her instantly...

She caught sight of two furled scrolls close to Vale's hand. He smiled slightly at her glance. "I am to disguise you properly," he said, touching the scrolls lightly with a finger. "Simply let me know when you are ready to leave, and I shall cast."

Sand looked at Torio then to Vale. "Disguises? My - this will be...interesting. I'm ready whenever you are, girl."

Torio nodded firmly at Vale. "Let's get this over with, then."

The wizard arched a brow at them, but merely picked up the first scroll. "If you could please stand a bit apart from the Ambassador, wizard...that's good, thank you." He started reading off the scroll, his voice carrying a vibrating edge to it as the arcane words were spoken aloud, and then as he finished the parchment flashed brightly and dissipated, an aura of light surrounding Sand...

When it faded, he had to look up into the newly polymorphed man's face; Sand now resembled a human. He nodded, satisfied. "Ambassador, if you could walk forward, now, please?" He began reading the second scroll before Torio could say anything, and in another bright flash of light, it was done.

Sand was suddenly taller. Much taller. He had to look down at Vale and Torio. His arms and legs were longer and they felt awkward, almost gangly. He made his way carefully to a mirror and stared into the glass.

_By Mystra..._

He was human. _Human...Human!_

He gaped at his appearance a moment. Gone were his pointed ears (_and probably the pleasure derived from it as well..._); his hair was short, spiky and black and his neck felt terribly exposed to the elements. His eyes were still blue but the familiar slant to them were gone - instead they were round and large and stared back at him incredulously.

But...he felt stronger. Feeling foolish, he flexed the muscles of his arms and felt a satisfying bunching of muscle and power.

He turned back to the other two. "Well - this will certainly work."

Torio winced against the bright flash of the spell, and then blinked in the almost black aftermath as her eyes adjusted. She glanced down; she could see long folds of pale, almost white hair tumbling down the front of her; her skin was much paler, as well, a translucent, pinkish glow permeating the creamy flesh. She followed Sand to the mirror...

Ironically enough, her eyes were still their own gray. She arched one pale eyebrow, eyeing Sand in the mirror; his face looked remarkably feral as a human, the shrewd light still glimmering in his eyes. He was _flexing_, of all things...She suppressed a laugh. Her fingers were practically twitching from the desire to stroke a finger across one bulging arm...

"It will suffice," she said cautiously, keeping her voice cool for Vale's benefit.

Sand watched him and Torio in the mirror for a moment. He was now a good foot and a half taller than her, probably nearly as tall as the ranger though not quite as tall as the Knight Captain or the paladin. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the coarse short hairs. He touched his ears - the (ugly) rounded tips. He lifted a pant leg cautiously... hair! He rolled up his sleeves - hair! Feeling totally foolish now, he pulled the neckline of his tunic out and peeked in - hair! He resisted pulling his pants open - but just barely. Would he need more sleep as a human? Would he be able to see in the dark? He flexed his arms again and his eyes darted over to the slight, blonde Torio beside him.

He looked at Vale again. "Anything else, my lord?"

Vale reached into his robes, pulling out a small, leather pouch and holding it out to them; Torio was closest, and she took the pouch gently, almost immediately knowing what it was.

"I do not know your mission," said the wizard quietly. "But should you fail in it, Nasher has impressed upon me that it would be most dire for both of you. I have taken the liberty of...concocting a few tablets that will offer you a method of escape, should you be caught."

He then presented a polished, silver ring, holding it out to Sand. "This is for you; it shall allow you to control the Ambassador's bracelet in its entirety, at least for now; she will not be able to stray far from you, but far enough that you should be able to conduct whatever business you might have to, should the situation come up." He gave Sand a long look. "I expect the item returned to either myself or the Cloaktower upon the success of your mission."

He bowed to them shortly. "I shall take my leave now. The spymaster, Aarin Gend, should be waiting to speak with you before you leave the palace. You should find him in the first chamber off the entry hall; his door should be unlocked for you."

With that, the elf took his leave, his robes swishing off into the distance as he disappeared down Castle Never's long hallways.

Sand took the ring silently, feeling the spark of electricity when it touched his fingers and waited a moment while Vale left. He so desperately wanted to reach out and pull Torio in a long embrace - but that would have to wait until they were safely outside the boundaries of Neverwinter.

He raised an eyebrow. "A method of escape? A euphemism if ever I heard one. But I suppose it would be more merciful than the low justice Luskan would surely offer us. Let us hope though, girl, our exit from Luskan is not in the shape of a wooden box."

He slipped the ring onto his finger and watched the woman before him. He was slowly realizing that half the time Torio wasn't even Torio around him - she was either invisible, Kelia, the Luskan and now this woman... "The papers - who are we? What do they say?"

Torio turned from Sand and bent over the papers absently, her eyes scouring the writing... "Tanith, a human merchant-wizard from Waterdeep, and his..." She stared down at the paper for a moment, her mouth twitching. "...his wife, Nagendra." She frowned thoughtfully. "The letter of introduction claims that you're attempting to establish a reputation with the Hosttower; but what does that have to do with this map?"

She looked up at Sand, still bent over the table. "Gend should probably know more." There was a faint furrow between her brows as she mulled it over.

"My wife." His mouth quirked at the corners. "Then...you need a ring." He rummaged through his pack until he found a large jeweled ring, a ring of protection. He kneeled at her feet, taking her left hand and slipped the ring on. "'Tanith' vows to love and protect and be faithful to 'Nagendra' so long as they both exist." He kissed the ring and then laughed at the words; in a way, they felt hollow compared to the oaths they had taken earlier in front of Nasher and at the same time there was an uncanny ring of simple truth. He looked up at her. "I suppose we won't be able to speak Elvish to each other anymore..."

Torio's mentally clamped down on the fluttering of her heart as Sands fingers pushed the ring onto her hand. _Stop acting the fool, Torio_. "Let's hope both them _and_us manage to exist past this mission," she said shortly, but her mouth relaxed in a wry smile as he kissed her hand.

She turned to walk through the door, and then stopped. "No more Elvish," she said thoughtfully. "That might prove to be a problem; even if you knew another language, the multi-linguistic capacities of Luskans tend to overshadow those of Neverwinter." She frowned at him. "There's a chance we'd be overheard and understood. What if we need to converse privately?"

"Well, dear girl..." He pulled out two of the many scrolls Vale and Nasher had thoughtfully provided. "_Rary's Telepathic Bond_...and I can make it permanent for the duration of our mission..." He raised an eyebrow. "It's up to you. I doubt it would make me privilege to all your thoughts so you don't have to worry about me probing your deepest, darkest Luskan secrets..."

Torio eyed him shrewdly, her mouth quirking in a slight smile. "Well, as you've sworn so _valiantly_not to use such Luskan secrets against me..." She nodded, once. "I suppose we have little alternative. I would much prefer to communicate with you somehow than be left in the dark."

Sand picked up the scroll and began reciting the spell, his left hand making long sweeping strokes between him and Torio. As the spell began to take shape, there was an uncomfortable feeling - like the top of his skull had been removed and his mind was now floating in the air between him and the woman - and gradually there was another presence, like an itch, in the back of his mind. _Torio_.

_Torio. Dear girl...can you understand me?_

Torio's spine crawled slightly as the very slight presence at the back of her mind, like a dull, painless ache. Sand's voice whispered though her skull, and she nodded at him slightly. _I can hear you, Bodaes._

She suddenly wondered what else the elf could hear, a slow blush creeping into her face. Needs must, of course, but there were some things that Sand didn't exactly need to hear at the moment. She carefully thought very pointedly about their mission as she touched his arm. "Well, now that we're truly _prepared_, let us see if we can find the Spymaster."

Sand watched her blush and could only imagine what she was thinking...

Actually...

He brought to the forefront of his mind the first night they had spent together, in the Library...

He gave her a sly smile. "Before we go, I just have to make this spell permanent. Hopefully reading it off a scroll won't make me utterly exhausted." He cast the now familiar _Permanency_ spell, a latent tiredness settling on his body. "Well...not too bad... Lead the way, dear girl."

Torio felt her skin prickle heatedly as the images flashed in her head;_ the wine bottle shattering, the scraping of a wooden table against his back, the table legs gouging across the stone floor...crying out ragged Elven love poetry to the rafters..._

She narrowed her eyes at him, realizing her pulse had skyrocketed in a matter of seconds. "Underhanded, Counselor," she said, her voice low in the back of her throat. Her lips curled into a coy smile. "And in the palace, too?" She swished by him, pushing the door to the antechamber open and leaning a hip against it languidly, waiting for him to follow after her.

Sand chuckled and followed her, pausing along the way give her bottom a quick pinch. "Wife."

Torio squeaked in a rather undignified manner, and slapped at his hand, trying to scowl horribly...while smothering a riot of snickering. "Blast you, elf," she muttered quietly as she lead the way back down the long entrance hallway. The door at the end of it was slightly ajar, light creeping out from the crack. She glanced at him archly as they neared it. "Do not think your sudden increase in size and strength will save you."

"Isn't there something in marriage vows about wifely duties? Come now, Claven, play your part. Practice with me, dear girl." He stepped in front of her, using his new size to push her back against the stone wall of the palace. He glanced left and right. They were alone for now. He bent down (down!) and pressed his lips against her neck, rubbing his stubbled face against her cheek. Stubble!

_"Sand!"_ She hissed indignantly, and then choked on a laugh, squirming against the rough, scratchy feeling. She pushed her hands against him, the wall at her back cold and hard. "You ingrate...stop it!" She wriggled a hand up his side and pinched his ribs mercilessly, her fingers meeting with some very hard, muscled resistance. "I'm not quite familiar with how the _elves_run things, but human husbands do _not_bully their wives." She turned her head slightly, wincing as she got a long, rough surface rubbed against her cheek; but she still managed to nip his lower lip between hers in mock reproach, finding it odd to have to crane her neck _upwards_for once in order to do so.

"Wife - you do protest too much." Sand laughed when she pinched him. "No bullying? I'd always assume humans were so...coarse and unrefined. You'll have to teach me the proper way to act as a human husband." He paused, his eyes twinkling. "Not that I have had any experience as an Elven husband." He placed a hand on either side of her blonde head and lowered his body slightly, pressing against her. He inhaled - still books and candlewax, although it was muted now.

Torio's mind was very quickly becoming clouded with thoughts completely unrelated to their mission; she felt engulfed, Sand's larger frame pressing full length against her, the wall at her back giving nary an inch as he held her head steady with his hands. "_Humans_, coarse and unrefined? Don't give me that, _Bodaes_... I know a few elves who quite enjoy the more uncivilized aspects of certain activities." She brought an image to the forefront of her mind, her eyes glinting slyly, of her on all fours, with Sand behind her on her bed at the Keep...

_Ah, so we're going to play this game, are we, dear girl? _He felt himself flushing at the memory of that afternoon on her bed. The image of her arched back, her shoulder blades and arms holding her up... He gently wandered her mind - _What other fantasies do you have about me?_

Torio's glance flicked downwards, away from his eyes_...as if that would keep him out. _ An image had sprung unbidden to her mind before she could help it, and she tried desperately to smother it down again...

_...both of them stripped and invisible and passionately intertwined on the very throne erected in the Throne Room at Crossroad Keep..._

She gave him a mental shove, her cheeks burning, and the image disappeared. _Investigative today, are we?_

Sand burst out laughing and took a step back from Torio. "Why, dear girl, I had no idea." His voice was soft, his lips twisted up in a small, seductive smile. "If we return, successful, I promise you - we'll do that to celebrate. Maybe with Kana at her desk too, if we're feeling brave. I do hope she won't give us paperwork to fill out."

He nodded in the direction of the open door. "We mustn't keep our friend spymaster waiting..." He walked in the direction of Aarin Gend's door.

Torio smoothed down her hair and followed him wordlessly, her cheeks still flushed. They pushed open the door and together, entered the spymaster's chambers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Volume 2, Part III: Stalemate**

**Special thanks to our friend Blue for writing the part of Aarin Gend! **

The spymaster stood beside his desk with his arms folded over his chest, calmly watching the couple entering his office. "Welcome, Tanith and Nagendra Couleuvra," he said evenly, his deep voice sounding like dark velvet. "I have been expecting you."

Soundlessly he walked closer, his tall frame still a few inches taller than Sand's new human form. Gend's intense dark brown eyes scanned them up and down for a few moments before he walked around them, inspecting them thoroughly from all sides. Finally, he finished his round and came to a halt in front of them again.

"Your disguises look good. I approve," he said slowly. The spymaster turned and walked back to his desk, moving a couple of sheets and apparently checking a list. "You will be traveling from Neverwinter to Luskan by wagon. The travel will take about five days. You will find among your papers an invitation to a certain auction in Luskan, held by a certain Orban Asrar. These papers should be enough to let you through their gates."

Gend soundlessly paced around his desk once before settling in front of the desk, half sitting on it with both arms and outstretched legs crossed. There was a catlike smoothness to his every move that made him resemble a prowling black panther; the dark skin and rippling muscles of his bare arms accentuating the impression. Although presently leaning on a desk in an office, there was no doubt this man was ever on his guard and could spring into action with the swiftness of a taught metal coil in less than a second.

"I assume Nasher told you of the Scales of the Sphinx. Orban Asrar made this enchanted map. With the right magic words, it reveals the identity and location of every of my spies - in Neverwinter or elsewhere... even those within Luskan walls. Asrar has put this map up for auction to the highest bidder, and I don't need to tell you the significance this will have for Neverwinter."

Aarin Gend's dark eyes nailed Sand with a piercing stare. "You, 'Tanith' - and I suggest you start using your new names constantly from now on, since the slightest slip of your tongues will have the direst consequences - you, Tanith, are well known to value the colour of money far more than any bothersome moral allegiances to Waterdeep or any other place. That is why you have been invited to participate in this auction."

Sand watched the pacing spymaster. Torio liked to pace as well. What was it about spies that they liked the pacing? He stared up at the ceiling, considering Gend's words. "It will likely cost a significant amount of gold - which, I am hoping Neverwinter will be so kind to provide, as my little shop in the Docks simply cannot afford to front that kind of money on the spot."

Sand glanced at Torio - _Nagendra_, he reminded himself. "I know of Luskan auction practices for rare magical items; we won't be able to get close enough to Asrar to kill him without bringing down all of Luskan on our head."

"That is where you are wrong, Tanith Couleuvra," Gend said lightly. "Never underestimate your own talents - or those of your wife." Soundlessly, he approached Nagendra and ran his fingers smoothly through her blond, silky hair, letting it fall from his fingers like a pale waterfall.

"There is a reason you were given this hair, Nagendra. I know from reliable sources that Asrar has an... affinity for blondes, and with your considerable talents from your time in Luskan, I know you can find a way to get closer to him than the auction practices normally allow for."

Torio stiffened slightly when Gend's hands plunged into her hair, but she forced herself to relax. Apparently she was going to have to do a lot of that in the next week.

Sand felt an uncharacteristic, protective prickling as he watched Gend stroke Torio's hair. It seemed to be coupled with another sensation: jealousy at the thought of this Orban Asrar man touching her, caressing her, kissing her, pulling off her clothes...

All for a map.

_Just the oaths. They'll make you feel that._

But he didn't half believe it.

He could feel her discomfort at being touched by Gend bursting through his mind like a small ray of light before she quickly snuffed it out. Keeping his eyes trained on Gend, he sent her a message -_You all right, dear girl? _

She could sense a muted indignant buzz in the background of his head; she was somewhat surprised at her instinctual aversion to the thought of having to do...well, anything that Gend was suggesting she would have to do to get close to Asrar. _I'm fine._ She would have to play her cards right; getting him alone would be easy, but controlling the situation afterwards might prove difficult...

She sent him a reassuring afterthought. _I'll be careful, bodaes._

_I know you'll be careful, Helkaer but I still worry about what you'll have to do or what he'll force you to do. I swear, if he hurts you, dear girl, I'll personally disintegrate him and scatter his ashes around Toril so he can never be resurrected..._ Apparently the oath was a lot stronger than Sand gave it credit. He risked giving Torio a long serious look, sealing his promise, before looking back at Gend.

It was all she could do to keep her face schooled into blankness when Sand looked at her. Maybe it was his sudden enlargement in size; she found herself suppressing an urge to curl herself against him, to huddle inside his larger frame, to wrap him around her body like a protective shield. She merely swallowed..._He will be dead, and we will have fled that place, before he has a chance to try anything_...and let her gaze fall back on Gend,

_I suppose I should be a gentleman and give you the pleasure of killing him then, my dear? Is that something a human husband would do for his lovely human wife? You 'take care' of our friend and I'll handle the map._

_It seems the spymaster is leaning that way. _ She couldn't keep the wry note from her thoughts. _And they say chivalry is dead. _

Walking over to Tanith, the spymaster ran a finger down the man's cheek and over his chin, before he pulled Tanith's sleeve up and ran the same finger over the hairs on his arm. "As for you, Tanith, you must learn how to behave like a man. How to walk and talk - and not least, how to shave. You aren't an elegant elf anymore, so you'd better get used to your new body right away - how it looks and how it works - everything that makes it different from your Elven form. Get used to your lack of grace, dexterity and endurance, as well as your increased strength and constitution." Returning back to his desk, Aarin Gend again settled against it, folding his arms and looking expectantly at them both.

Sand unconsciously ran his hand over his new stubble, feeling the coarse prickly hairs. "Yes - I'm noticing. It is very different being human." Being taller aside (it was interesting to see the tops of people's head now as oppose to always looking up their nostrils), Sand could feel the heaviness with which his limbs moved. His fingers didn't seem to want to follow his commands as readily when he was casting. At the same time, the spells were no longer as exhausting and he just felt stronger.

But coupled to that was a stranger sensation, an almost tangible passing of time he could feel. Was this what it felt like to be a human? It was unpleasant, uncomfortable, always looming in the blood that coursed through his new body, a slightly desperate feeling of having to do so much in so little time. Sand absorbed the shudder that threatened him.

"Suppose we kill him but don't win the auction," Torio said evenly. "The Scales will still exist, and no doubt destroying their maker won't stop some enterprising young mage from discovering how to activate it. It is much too valuable a tool against Neverwinter to simply be left there." Her mouth twitched wryly; never in her life would she have thought she'd be using such words. "Are we to steal it from the real winner? Destroy it? Disable it?"

_Not long ago, you'd be vying to buy this map yourself._

She looked at the spymaster, adding quietly, "As far as our escape; suppose I can manage to get Orban alone long enough to kill him, and we manage to destroy the map; it might be difficult for us to simply walk out of Luskan's gates." Secretly she prayed that they actually did have an escape plan for them and that Nasher wasn't simply sending them in there on a suicide mission...

After studying the couple for a while, watching their tentative movements regarding their new looks, and the exchange of gazes at each other, the spymaster finally spoke again. "As for Orban Asrar, you have no choice but killing him - either that also gives you control over the map, or not. As long as the creator lives, there is a chance he will make another map. _How_ you kill him is something you two will have to decide, although I can offer some means to that end when we start looking at equipment."

While speaking, Gend had started pacing again, and at the mention of equipment he walked over to a cabinet with glass doors. Visible on the shelves within, were small daggers, rings with poison hidden inside gems, and the like.

"Regarding the map itself, you will have several options. The primary goal is to have it brought back to Neverwinter, and you should do your outmost to reach this goal. However, if you end up in a situation where the only other possible outcome is to have the map discovered or falling into somebody else's hands, it should be destroyed. Disabling it will not be an option, since there may be several ways of activating it, and I doubt it will truly be disabled without being destroyed."

Opening the cabinet, Gend took out two identical rings, simple gold bands without any kind of decoration. "Humans often use simple wedding bands, as opposed to elves," he looked pointedly at Tanith, "so these will not raise suspicion. In addition to being your wedding rings, they also have properties that will be helpful when leaving Luskan. We will talk about this in due time."

He walked over to them looking more than ever like a hunting wildcat, and gave them one ring each. "Put it on and get used to wearing it."

"The greatest danger you two face, is to accidentally do something out of character for the persons you are supposed to be. One slip of your tongue or one faulty move and suspicion will be raised. As you both know, nobody are as suspicious as Luskans, expecting spies everywhere and trusting nobody. To counter this, you two need to train your parts meticulously, starting immediately."

Gend stalked back to his desk where he settled as before, leaning against it with arms and legs crossed. In his eyes was a strange gleam of amusement, and the corners of his mouth were twitching as he watched his newest spies.

"Show me that you can behave like a plausible married couple. How would you behave towards each other? Give me a demonstration. And Tanith - don't forget to move like a human at all times, even when your mind is occupied with everything else. I cannot let either of you leave until I know you truly _are_Tanith and Nagendra Couleuvra."

"A demonstration..." said Torio, her voice flat and even. She slipped the enchanted ring on her finger, along with the ring of protection Sand had given her; her fingers would definitely be a testament to their supposed wealth. She glanced at Sand's face; if the situation wasn't so grave, she would be laughing at the irony of it. Carefully, refusing to let her face betray any emotion, she slid her hands up against his shoulders and lifted on to her toes, pressing her mouth against his rather fervently.

"Right - move like a human merchant. Mostly clumsy, loud, heavy..." But before Sand could reply further, Torio (_Nagendra_!) was already coiling herself around him, pressing her hot mouth to his. He stiffened slightly, feeling exposed and embarrassed by the sudden need to _perform_ for a man he barely knew, his round blue eyes darting over to where Gend was watching them.

_Right - move like a human merchant. _

_Pretend as though you have never kissed this woman before while acting like you have been kissing her for years._

_I can do that._

He cupped her face roughly, his hands feeling large and overbearing, pulling her face closer to his, bending down to meet her lips. He slid one hand through her hair, to the back of her head, and slipped his tongue inside her mouth (which technically he knew he didn't have to do since Gend wouldn't be able to see that but...)

_How much of a demonstration would he want? _

Feeling even more lewd now, especially since he could feel himself starting to harden, he crouched slightly, and using his new found strength picked her up easily by her backside, his fingers sinking into the firm flesh, and carried her over to the spymaster's desk, putting her down on a clear spot at the edge of the wooden table._Well at least Gend can't complain about the view now._

Torio clung to his shoulders as he dropped her somewhat roughly and pressed against her, his mouth passing hungrily down her neck. Sand wrapped her legs around his waist, scraping his teeth along her neck. "Nagendra, my love, let us finish with our business here and head back to the Seven Sails. I simply _must_have you soon." Now he really was feeling both aroused and ridiculous. It would take some getting used to his slightly deeper voice, coming from deeper in his chest now. Sand hoped that the Seven Sails Inn was still in business but at least they would have 5 days in the carriage to brush up on Luskan places, people and politics.

Her pulse raced instantly through her body; Torio could feel him beginning to harden slightly from where he was pressed between her legs, her skirt bunched up above her knees. She felt instantly embarrassed that someone was watching them; they had been creeping, sneaking, hiding for so long that even the thought of someone now seeing Sand kiss her made her heart twist with panic. And there was no denying the chemistry between them...

Well, and Gend shouldn't complain about it; it would help them in their mission, after all, if they were attracted to one another. _Simply act as if you truly hate him, and you are pretending to love him._

She devoutly ignored the sly, mental question mark that surfaced at the last part of that thought, and slid her arms around his neck. "Apparently you must," she said silkily to Sand, her eyes darting to the spymaster's face momentarily. "Why wait until we return to the Sails, my darling Tanith? I'm sure the spymaster would leave the room if we asked him politely..." She hooked her legs tighter around Sand's waist and nuzzled his ear as she spoke, realizing with a pang of disappointment that his human ears were most likely not as sensitive as his sharper Elven ones. _The things we sacrifice in the name of Neverwinter. _

Aarin Gend was watching the couple intently with a slightly amused look on his face. Truth be told, he was surprised at the gusto with which they had both instantly interpreted that acting as a married couple meant public displays of affection. Perhaps there was more to it than what met the eye... it did not pass his ever watchful eyes by that they were both showing subtle but visible signs of arousal; slightly quickening breathing and widened pupils. For two persons who were supposed to hate each other, they certainly had a good chemistry...

"It almost pains me to break this up, now that you were doing so well," he finally said, his voice with a hint of laughter, "but you don't need to demonstrate further than what will be seen in public - and I assume you will have no wish to get arrested for lewd behaviour." Chuckling slightly, he raised his brow at them, expecting them to leave his desk.

"What amuses me is how you both instantly interpreted my request for demonstration with such a passionate tryst. There is no denying there is great chemistry between you... I could see that you didn't have to act all that much, and during the five days you will be on the road, I suspect you will explore this a bit more. That is_good_! It will make you believable as a young couple who have only been married for a few years yet."

"But - the clue here is that you _have_been married a few years, so you aren't all affection all the time. What else would a couple do?" Grinning widely, showing off pearly white teeth against his dark skin, Gend added: "Don't forget that fighting couples often pull in former 'sins' their partner has done - so you must keep your back story straight. Who have forgotten to pick up their dirty underwear, or to let the cat out, or kissed somebody else on the cheek last Saturday? Try a fight and see if your chemistry still works."

Torio smirked inwardly..._this_ part, Sand and she already had plenty of time practicing for. She instantly shoved him away from her, her face twisted into a horrible scowl, eyes flashing dangerously. "You _viper_," she hissed. "Don't think I didn't see you making eyes at that cleric of Sune that's been frequenting the shop." She continued pushing him pack, light, jabbing shoves against his shoulders as she paced forward. "If I ever see her anywhere near you again, you lecherous bastard, I will personally.." _shove_ "...carve your heart out with..." _shove_ "...my bare fingers." She plunged a clawed hand into the front of his robes and drew his face down to hers, her eyes narrowed into slits, her teeth bared as she practically snarled at him. "And don't think that I _won't_, Husband."

Sand narrowed his eyes at Torio, smacking her hands away from his robes. "Don't touch me like that, _Wife_. All your clothes..." He gestured at her. "Your jewels..." He looked pointedly at her rings. "Who bought those for you? Who works at the shop, enchanting the items so you can go and spend the gold recklessly on shoes? Just how many pairs of shoes do you need?" Sand folded his arms defensively across his chest and said surly, fighting back a laugh, "Besides, I wasn't making eyes with her - I was just attending to a good customer! She comes in at least twice a week! It's good merchant practices!"

"Ha!" She flipped her long hair over her shoulder indignantly..._hmmm, this hair is not too terrible a thing, in all actuality._ "Good merchant practices? Don't take me for a fool; she can't keep her eyes off of you, much less her hands. Is _that_ merely a good merchant practice?" Her voice was thick and acidic. "And don't even mention my clothing, _Husband..._...would you want me looking like some street beggar scrounging for scraps in my husband's own shop?" She glared at him; the corner of her mouth twitched, the only indication that she was fighting back her amusement, but thanks to her back being to the spymaster she hoped he wouldn't notice. "Or maybe I should dress like a priestess of Sune..."

"It's not my fault she can't keep herself away from me! You should consider yourself lucky to be married to me," Sand sneered. "And I wouldn't care so much if you dressed like a worshipper of Sune if you would behave like one to your own husband - and then maybe - just maybe - I wouldn't find it so pleasing that a woman paid me any attention instead of seeing me as a bottomless coin purse. Tell me, Nagendra, when was the last time you made going to bed, pleasant?"

Sand found it easy to remember to call Torio 'Nagendra' when she looked so different with her long blonde hair but it was her eyes that always caught him off-guard - the same astute clear gray eyes...

A deep laughter from Gend interrupted the arguing couple. "Very good!" he said approvingly, still chuckling. "You certainly have practiced fighting before, I can tell. You will also get more time to hone your interactions during the travel, so I will trust you to not raise suspicion regarding your marital status."

Sand nodded at Gend, "Ah, Nagendra and I first met over a dispute, I suppose you could say. And we continue to meet over disputes it seems as she cannot hold her tongue. If arguing is a sign of marriage, then I'm certain we won't have difficulties there." He gave Torio a coy look.

"You have to practice on those skills where you earlier relied on your higher dexterity," Gend nodded and walked over to a cabinet, revealing a variety of practice weapons inside. "What is your preferred melee weapon, Tanith? Whatever it is, you will need to practice a bit - your movements won't be the same now, and although you are stronger than before, you lack the speed. What would you choose? Spar with me a few minutes to see if you still want the same weapon or choose a new one."

Sand gave Gend a small smile. "I prefer to stay out of melee combat, if you really must know. But..if I _must_, a wizard's staff or quarterstaff. I have used daggers on occasion."

Torio watched with some amusement as Sand moved around the room; she had hardly noticed how smoothly he had moved before until now, when he no longer possessed the cat-like grace that permeated his movements. It had been seemingly replaced by an intrinsic physicality; every movement suggested latent strength, power, and a very raw, solid presence.

_And knowing the mind that was inside that human body...?_ A dangerous combination to be sure.

She stepped back against the desk when Gend mentioned weapons, not really looking forward to being in the way of a possible sparring match.

"Hand me a staff then. Whether I am human or Elven, I am still a wizard and wizards are known for the magical staves." Sand did not relish the idea of battling the larger and obviously more capable human and he was suspecting this would be little more than an exercise in futility and embarrassment.

He sent a bemused message to Torio: _Dear girl, I had always hoped to spare you the horror of watching me in actual combat. I thank Mystra that you're more interested in my superior intellect and not my ability to fend off obviously well adept spymasters..._

"I'm aware that wizards seldom use melee weapons," Gend said evenly, picking out two simple quarterstaffs and two wooden daggers before closing the cabinet, "but you know as well as me that even wizards may get cornered, surrounded or even run out of spells."

"Relax," he added and smiled at Tanith when he saw the less than pleased expression on the wizard's face. "I have no interest in humbling you. This is simply a practice to help you get used to your new body's movements before you suddenly find yourself up against the wall. I'm also a firm believer in hidden poisoned daggers, even in bed, so I will show you a few useful moves for when you are surprised without your staff handy. I will teach them to your wife as well."

The spymaster pulled a string next to a large curtain covering his entire back wall, and the entire curtain slid aside, revealing that his office was only half the size of the room - the other part was mostly empty, except a few training dummies and targets by one of the walls.

Gend motioned for them both to follow him into the training area, asked Nagendra to wait by the wall and led Tanith out in the middle of the floor. He stuck one of the daggers in his belt and handed the other to Tanith, telling him to do the same. Then he walked about ten feet away and stood with his back to the wizard, still holding both staffs. Weighing one of them in his hand to get the feeling for the balance of it, he suddenly turned and tossed it at Tanith.

"Catch!"

Torio followed them into the training room, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her mouth; but her thoughts were amused as she sent them to Sand. _Oh, but I am quite looking forward to seeing what you've learned from your head-bashing companions, Bodaes...and it seems I shan't escape such ministrations, either._ She leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, and watched as Gend tossed at quarterstaff in Sand's direction. _Try not to take any blows to the head...I would be _devastated_ if anything happened to that sharp mind of yours..._

Sand caught the quarterstaff, fumbling only a little bit. He glanced at Torio. _I have healing potions in my pack...just in case..._

He squared his shoulders and held the quarterstaff in front of him. "So...uh... ready?"

Sand defended himself as well as he could against the agile attacks of the spymaster, surprised at the force at which he could block the incoming assault. But when the spymaster took a swipe at his legs and he tried to jump up out of the way, Gend's staff hooked him around the ankle and sent him crashing to the floor, landing hard on his backside.

The impact of the fall jarred him a moment; he was so much heavier and it seemed that he fell much heavier too. Sand rolled away from another swing, but not fast enough; it caught him on the shoulder and he had an intake of breath in pain.

He rolled again, this time at least making it to his feet and parrying another blow to his torso, pushing back with all his strength until he felt Gend take a step back. Sand wiped his forehead. "Let us hope then, that my survival defends not upon my skills in combat. There's a reason why I'm always hiding behind the paladin." He stopped his hand from going and touching the_ariik_gem, but looked at Gend ruefully.

Torio watched in bemusement as Sand was quickly dispatched by the spymaster. Sand didn't move too badly; but it was slightly obvious that his power was in spell casting. _Still, Gend would be merely a pile of charred remains with one well-placed spell..._

And she could manage neither. She had been shown how to hold a weapon correctly, but her body was not trained for parrying blows or dodging the thrust of a blade. Nor could she conjure up a ball of flames to destroy her enemies at will. "I do hope you don't have such high expectations from me either," she called to Gend ruefully, her mouth twitching in a smirk. "I slaughter willing sheep, not well armed men twice my size."

Glancing over at Nagendra, Gend smiled at her. "I certainly don't intend to beat you, pretty lady, but I do want to teach you both some useful movements with a dagger. Perhaps a couple of unarmed attacks as well. There are certain points on a human body that mean instant death or paralysis if touched the right way."

Pulling the training dagger up from his belt, Aarin Gend asked Tanith to do the same. "Please watch closely, both of you. After Tanith has had some tries, I want you to train them as well, Nagendra."

Sand pulled out the small practice dagger, rolling his injured shoulder back and forth, trying to work the knotted muscle loose. His bottom was also throbbing in pain and he hoped he didn't look too incompetent. It would be embarrassing to have Gend call the whole thing off because Sand was unable to stay on his two feet. He held the dagger up, mimicking Gend's stance. "Ready as I'll ever be, spymaster."

Gend nodded and went down in a crouch, beginning to circle Tanith. Sometimes he made attacks, but did not touch the wizard, stopping when he got past his defenses and explained, demonstrated and then did it again.

Suddenly, he twirled around Tanith and got behind him, bend one of his arms painfully up his back and held the knife to his throat. "Now, Tanith, you are suddenly attacked from behind like this. Show me how you would get out if it without magic."

_Sand nearly rolled his eyes. __Well for one...I wouldn't... _But since they were playing the "without magic" game, and the hand holding the practice dagger was free, Sand twisted his head sideways and ducked, sliding out from Gend's hold. At the same time, he spun the dagger around and stabbed backwards, stopping his hand when the tip touched the spymaster's ribs. He looked up at the bigger man questioningly, waiting for his critique.

"Very good! You have the right idea! Now, if you adjusted your movement like _this,_ and aimed the dagger like _that_... if they do it to your dagger arm, you can press the nerves in my elbow _here,_ stick your fingers in my eyes or do press those points _here_... " Gend explained, showing a few other movements as well, training with Tanith until he felt the wizard had it under control.

"I cannot train you with staff and knife in one night, I can only show you - but I expect you to train for yourselves when possible during your travel. Now you, Nagendra... I hope you have been watching the instructions. If you could kindly come out here, take my knife and show your husband how it is done when he attacks you." Gend stepped back, signaling for them to start sparring with each other.

Sand watched Gend carefully. His - or Torio's - life may very well depend on what the spymaster was showing them now. He practiced the movements slowly, carefully, his years of practicing the arcane arts and needing to mimic movements coming in handy.

Sand's blue eyes widened as Gend gave Torio the dagger. "You want me to attack her?" He took a hesitating step towards her. He didn't want to hurt her and yet...

_...you don't want to be bested by a woman, do you Sand?_

Torio took the dagger with a look of mild irritation, but she walked out onto the floor, squaring off against Sand. _This would be slightly fairer if he was still an elf..._

Then Sand was lunging at her, his arms reaching low while he ducked, clearly intent on catching her around her midsection. She backed up a step, and tried to dodge to the side; his arm caught her around her waist and she grabbed his wrist, attempting to twist under his arm and yank his wrist up high against his back. _By gods, but his arms were strong..._

She was agile, Sand had to give her that. He could feel her bending his arm back even as he caught her around her waist. With one arm useless and the other still holding a dagger, he couldn't very well pick her up; instead he let his momentum carry them both forward and they crashed spectacularly to the ground. He yanked his arm away from Torio, fumbled with the dagger and then swung the blade towards her throat just as she swung her own dagger to his. Both their hands stopped a mere hands breadth away from the exposed skin.

He froze, his chest panting from the exertion, his blue eyes shining as he carefully considered their symmetrical position. "Stalemate, dear girl."

Torio gasped for breath, her arm shaking with the adrenaline fueled strain of holding the knife against Sand's throat. "I suppose it is," she managed to get out. _Ironic, that_. She could barely swallow without feeling the steely edge press against her skin.

Her grey eyes narrowed slightly up at his, before she glanced over at Gend, waiting for his reaction.

Gend gave a deep, warm laugh as he stepped closer. "All right," he chuckled, "if you were ever to fight each other, you would end up in a stalemate. Very good Nagendra - I can see you have used a dagger before."

If he noticed the rather pointed silence that Torio met this statement with, he ignored it.

He signaled for them to break it up and collected the training weapons. "I think this will be enough for now, but it's important that you both remember to train on these moves while on the road. Come with me back to my desk, there are a few more details we need to sort out before you leave, including the use of your wedding bands."

Walking in front of them into the office part of his room, he pulled the strings to close the curtain again, and then placed the training weapons back in their cabinet. Then he prowled back to his desk, leaning back on the corner of it like before, and waited for them to get seated on the chairs next to it.

"Those wedding bands are magical, as I'm sure you have noticed, and they will play a vital part when you are to get out of Luskan again. The less you know, the less you can tell if you get captured, so let me simply tell you that they are a homing beacon. When they are activated, one of my agents will find you and get you out. They are to be used in an emergency only... the preferable way of leaving would be the way you came in - on a wagon with your luggage intact."

Gend's voice lowered and he leaned forwards, staring intensely at them. "It is extremely hard to keep Neverwinter agents in Luskan undetected, so the few I have are must never be compromised. I will not give you any information about them - everything can be revealed under torture or by mind scrying. But if - and only _if_- you_have_ the map and are in immediate danger of being caught with it, you can activate either of the rings to have somebody come to find you."

He walked over to Nagendra and lifted her hand with the ring, turning her palm up. "The rings are to be activated like this... " he demonstrated a combination of pressure points that were to be pressured simultaneously with the fingertips, "... or by whispering these power words to it..." Gend leaned in and whispered the words in Nagendra's ear, "...but in the opposite order. Do not speak them unless you mean to activate the ring, because it will happen regardless of how faintly you whisper. Give the words to your husband."

Walking back to his desk, Aarin Gend again assumed his usual stance, his deeply brown eyes watching them intently.

Torio stared at her ring for a moment, before turning and muttering the words into Sand's ear, backwards of course; _no need to activate them prematurely._

Sand spun the wedding band around his finger absent-mindedly as Gend explained it to him. It was really clever, he had to give them that. He burned the words of activation in his mind as Torio whispered them to him. "We will, of course, use such an instrument judiciously. It would not surprise me that if activating the ring invited scrying from the Hosttower and that is something we wish to avoid."

She looked at the spymaster, then, her fingers toying with the ring on her finger. "Otherwise we leave as we came in." She couldn't see that happening; sneaking in to an auction, killing the artificer and stealing the artifact? Luskans were not fools. But she merely nodded. "Is there anything else, then, Spymaster?"

"I have a small device that you might need," Gend nodded and walked off to the cabinet again, taking out an elaborate hair comb decorated with glittering gems. "This one - wear it in your hair at all times, especially when you have a chance of meeting Orban Asrar. Inside it is a small pin..." Gend touched one of the jewels, and a small pin sprang out from the spine of the comb and he pulled it out. "It contains a very powerful poison. One prick with this, and Orban will die within a couple of minutes. Be careful not to touch it - I have no antidote." He pressed the pin back in, and it disappeared with a faint click. Quietly he held it out to Torio.

Torio took the comb delicately, examining it. She remembered many of the Luskanite street women and courtesans having such things on them at all times, usually in the rougher parts of the streets when killing and robbing your customers was merely considered good business practice. She slipped the comb into the inside pocket of her cloak, merely arching a brow at Aarin. "It's quite ingenious, Spymaster. I shall use it carefully." There was no hesitation in her voice about the likelihood of her having to use it.

"What else is there for us? Clothing, you had implied, but am I correct in assuming that those have been already packed for us? I have no weapons on me at the moment so I will need those as well." Sand paused. He had always known death was eminent but never _this_eminent. "If there's nothing else, there is something I'd like to do before we leave. All I would require is some parchment, a quill, ink and some sealing wax..."

"Yes, I've been informed that clothing and other things one usually brings on a journey, has been packed and ready. When you leave here, somebody will take you to the armory where you will get some weapons. There isn't much left for you to do here, but I will of course give you time to write what you need. Just a moment." Gend opened a drawer in his desk and took out parchment and sealing wax, quill and ink, and placed it all on the desk. "You are welcome to use my chair, Tanith," he said, unexpectedly warmly - he had a feeling it was something that was important for the wizard.

Sand took a seat at the desk, "Thank you." He bent his head low over the parchment, writing carefully in long hand, the quill scratching lightly on the surface. He glanced up when Torio and Aarin Gend began speaking but returned his attention to the matter at hand. A part of him wondered if he was crazy; another part wondered in the wisdom of doing such a thing (especially if he survived and Gend - being a spymaster and all - read the note) but a larger part of him was realizing he didn't care. Much, anyway. He quickly read it over and then folded the parchment. Melting the sealing wax over a candle, he let a large, substantial puddle of wax drip onto the paper and then pressed his personal seal into it.

He stood and handed the document to Gend. "If you wouldn't mind - if I don't return from this task, open it and carry out the instructions here."

Gend accepted the sealed parchment with a nod. "I promise," he said seriously. "I honestly hope that will never be necessary, but you can trust me. When you return, I will give you your parchment back."

Gend took out a small key that was chained to his belt and unlocked the bottom drawer on his desk. Quietly he placed the parchment inside, locked the drawer and slid the key back into an inner pocket on his leggings.

Torio gave Sand a quizzical look, but merely watched the exchange. She looked over at Gend; something had been nagging at the back of her mind ever since meeting him, and there was something she had to ask. "Let me ask you something, spymaster," she said evenly. "I know tales of you...piracy on the high seas, your exploits in Chult; I know Nasher offered you the chance to serve Neverwinter as a way of keeping you out of the cells. Tell me..." She leaned against his desk, looking up into his eyes squarely. "Is it worth it to you? Serving Neverwinter under a prison sentence?"

Aarin Gend watched Nagendra quietly for a few minutes, thoughtfully forming his answer. "I'm very grateful for the chance Nasher gave me. I get to do what I do best, while being paid for it - and being respected for my work. I feel I'm where I want to be."

When his eyes met hers again, the gaze was softer, warmer... and so was his voice. "I know it may not seem worth it to you, yet, but it will come. You may feel you are being thrown out in harm's way now, but consider it. You have a chance to change your life, get a new start. You are young, pretty, and..." Here Gend cast a glimpse over at Tanith who was busy writing, "...have an _interesting_partner."

He chuckled to himself. "Oh, yes, I've noticed your brilliant chemistry... you know each other better than you want to admit. Would you rather have chosen death, than have this chance... and this partner?"

"Are you ready to leave now? Then the man waiting outside, will take you to the armory." He moved close to them and shook their hands firmly, intently. "Good luck! May the Gods follow you on your path."

Sand clasped Gend's hand firmly. "Thank you for everything. I do hope to be getting that parchment back." He stepped back and exited the room, to meet the man outside to go to the armory.

Torio gave Gend a long, considering look, before she too curtsied. "Thank you, Spymaster," was all she said, before she turned and followed Sand.

The man outside Gend's chamber guided him down a hallway, turning left and right a few times before stopping in front of a large set of double doors. Sand looked behind him and saw Torio following a short distance away. "Go ahead, take what you need." The man opened the door and gestured inside.

The room was filled with weapons of every imaginable sort. He held his hand out, feeling for those with magical enchantments, trying to think ahead of time to what he would need. What would they expect to encounter? Mostly humans, evil ones. He would have to limit the magic and power of whatever he took though; no better way to incur scrying from the Arcane Brotherhood than to come into their city loaded down with magical items stacked upon magical items. He recognized the Staff of Valmaxian but would a young merchant from Waterdeep really have such a powerful weapon? He settled instead on a Staff of Curing: neither he nor Torio had any ability in the healings arts and it may come in handy. He also picked up a small dagger with some minor enchantments.

Sand turned to Torio and pointed to a small blade lying on the table. "A courtesan blade, girl. Seems fitting, doesn't it?"

Torio snorted at him, but the corners of her mouth curled in a slight smile as she propped her foot up on the table and rolled up her skirt. She slipped her trusty little knife from the garter and picked up the courtesan blade; its edge gleamed slightly greenish in the light as she turned it. _Magically poisoned? _ She'd have to be careful; she delicately slid it against her leg and flipped her bootknife around, sticking it point first into the tabletop.

She dropped her leg, brushed her skirt down and glanced at Sand. "Do you think they would search us?"

"Probably." He watched her slide the knife and garter up her legs. By Mystra, that was arousing...her calf was subtly flexing as she worked the lacey material over her knees and Sand watched as her hands and the weapon disappeared under the hem of her skirt. "But it's Luskan. Everybody is expected to carry a weapon. If I remember correctly, the Cutlass Tavern confiscates weapons when you enter and returns them when you leave. But I have no plans of going there." He frowned. "I'm more worried if they try to _Dispel Magic _on us."

Torio chuckled. "That would be a problem; we'll have to be careful of what spells we've got activated; if they don't think there's anything worth dispelling they won't bother with us." She moved to a side table, feeling the weight of the comb in her traveling cloak pocket tapping against her leg as she walked. She fingered a few small items, but weapons were usually not her forte...

She found a small, spring loaded bootknife, meant to be slipped into the sole of a shoe and activated by putting weight on the release catch below the blade. She fingered it thoughtfully and then picked it up, slipping it into her pocket as well. "I think this is the most heavily armed I've ever been in my life." She turned and looked at Sand appraisingly; the staff he had chosen seemed to glow benignly in his hand. "Are we ready, then?"

"I think we are." Sand exited the armory and the man led him towards a back entrance. The man turned to them before opening the door. "All you need has been packed on the carriage for you." He handed each one of them a coin purse. "For your incidental expenses. Anything you don't use, you may keep upon your return, in addition to any other monies Lord Nasher deems to pay you. If you have no further questions, the carriage awaits you outside."


	4. Chapter 4

**Volume 2, Part IV: Without the Honesty**

Sand and Torio were rushed out of the castle and into the midnight air; a carriage waited for them, the driver discreetly cloaked, with a large brimmed hat pulled over his head. The guard that escorted them out into the streets pulled the door open for them and ushered them inside, before heaving their gear onto the back of the wagon. Torio listened mutely as the baggage was strapped down, and then the guard shouted, "All clear!"

There was the crack of a whip, and the carriage lurched into motion, the clopping of horses' hooves the only sound breaking the silence. There were two small bracketed candles that lit the inside of the carriage, and she stared at Sand's face from where he sat across from her; she was exhausted, and strangely wired, and still in shock over Nasher's sudden insistence that they swear oaths to each other despite the fact that he obviously didn't trust her; Vale's warnings and Aarin's instructions swam in her head as she licked her lips and watched the elf-turned-human who sat across from her, her mouth as parched as a desert.

Sand pulled back the dark red curtains covering the windows of the carriage slightly, peering out. They were rushing through the quiet streets of the city, the houses and shops all blurring together with only the occasional torch breaking the dull grey darkness. His beating heart was finally slowing down; the further they traveled from Castle Never, the less real the whole evening seemed. He would be sorely tempted to consider the whole night a dream if it wasn't for the fact that Torio was blonde and he was human. Subconsciously, he touched his ears again. Sand let the curtain fall back down and leaned against his seat, his eyes seeking out Torio. "How are you doing, Nagendra?"

"I am most decidedly not myself, Tanith." Her tone was sharp, but then her face softened slightly as she looked at him and she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This was all rather...abrupt," she said quietly.

It was silent for a moment, and then she chuckled wryly into her hand, her eyes slitting open and darting to his face. "Although I suppose it's a relief from what could have driven Nasher to drag us both to the castle." She thought back on their earlier panic...his intense, desperate kiss at the top of the basement stairs...

Sand moved carefully across the carriage and seated himself besides her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. "I don't think Nasher suspects anything; though our...enthusiastic...performance for Gend might have him wondering..." He began toying with her hair, observing that she now had long hair and he was the one with short hair.

He kissed the top of her head. "We'll have 5 days alone together, dear girl, even if the situation in Luskan does not bode well for us."

She smirked, tilting her head back to look at him momentarily. "And whose fault is that enthusiastic performance? On the spymaster's desk, of all places...you seem to be settling in to this uncouth, uncivilized human business rather well, Bodaes."

"What can I say? You have been a terrible influence on my comportment. First the Library table...now Gend's desk... I must admit, dear girl, a part of me was rather pleased at that. Childish. Petty, _oh yes_, but it was my own small revenge. May he never look at the desk without thinking of us and our performance ever again. A...worthy epitaph for us." He settled back comfortably in his seat. It would be about a day's journey to Port Llast, then 4 days beyond that to Luskan itself - barring any problems along the road.

Torio settled against him again as she mulled over his words. Five days, alone. A part of her was nervous, uneasy; she blamed that initially on the mission they faced, but there was a part of her that was trying desperately to balk at the sudden isolated closeness with Sand...no distractions, no sneaking, no lies, no slipping from rooms before dawn... A chance to be normal. A part of her was balking because she knew she wanted it..."Five days," she repeated. She kept her voice light. "I might have a chance to sleep in, for once."

"Did you want to sleep now, my dear? I'm certain we'll be fairly safe for a while yet but I'll stay awake..."

She shook her head slightly against his shoulder. "I'm not sleepy." The end of her sentence was punctuated by a small, smothered yawn, but she ignored it. "I swore to protect you, remember? What a poor protector I'd be if I fell asleep on the job." Her eyes were heavy; the noise and steady rhythm of the moving carriage was lulling her tired mind into unconsciousness, and she sighed slightly, burrowing her head deeper into Sand's shoulder. "Does Nasher always call for such vows from his spies? Luskan has...rather different methods of ensuring loyalty

Sand tightened his grip on Torio as she began drifting off. "I would assume such oaths are needed for riskier ventures. My earlier work in the Docks were inconsequential enough I suppose that swearing over my life's blood wasn't necessary." He kissed her forehead. "And I swore to protect you as well, dear girl. What was it? 'To love all that you loved and shun all that you shunned.' I suppose I should start shunning Nevalle -oh but wait - I already do."

She looked so comfortable that Sand wished his racing mind could find some repose and join her in her creeping slumber. "Luskan methods of guaranteeing loyalty aren't that much different than Neverwinter if you really think on it. Listen to us or we kill you. Geas and magically sworn and sealed oaths are similar. Really, there are times I think Neverwinter is nothing more than Luskan but without the honesty."

She snorted in a choked laugh. "Without the honesty...ha! Well said." Her voice trailed off into a chuckle. "You're starting to sound as cynical as the ranger, dear Sand." She sniffed lightly, her voice dry. "Although thankfully without the standard accompaniment of unwashed self-loathing."

She fell silent for a moment, shutting her eyes. Then; "I wonder if Nasher really would have killed us had we refused. Well..." She opened one eye, glancing up at his face. "Killed you, at any rate. I, on the other hand, seem to be somewhat...expendable at the moment." Her voice took on a bitter edge, which surprised her. She could guess full well why Nasher was sending her on this mission; it would be easy to denounce her as a spy for Neverwinter if she was caught (who would believe the notorious Torio Claven was working for Neverwinter?) and there would be no hearts unduly broken at her untimely death.

_Right?_"Still, it baffles me that he would send you and I together." She traced a hand over his chest drowsily, her voice purring. "Not that I am one to complain, dear Tanith.

"Hmm." Sand pondered her statement. "I don't think he would have killed me. But he would have made life tremendously difficult, I suspect. Besides, he knows with Garius and the King of Shadows looming in the distance, my doom is essentially guaranteed." He chuckled darkly.

Torio felt her stomach clench painfully when he blithely mentioned his impendingly violent death-by-King-of-Shadows. But then his voice lightened somewhat; "And you are expendable only to him. I have a significantly different opinion than him on that matter."

"It surprises me as well that he would send us together, dear girl, though I won't look a gift hobgoblin in the mouth. But he is right - the two of us are the best suited for this task. He knows our history though; that's probably why he insisted upon such...stringent oaths to each other. He probably suspected that we'd betray the other given half the chance." He frowned slightly. "Still - I hope you did not mind having to swear such an oath too much. If we return, I will request that Nasher nullify our words." His insides gave a raw, disappointed twist. He had found himself giving the vows slightly more ... emotional...meaning than he had originally intended too. Perhaps as a result of the tumultuous day?

"Hmm," she said, chuckling; her insides warmed considerably, a pleasant buzzing that filtered to her toes and fingers. "Just the words a lady wants to hear from the man she is about to plunge into mortal danger with." She nuzzled his shoulder, thinking for a moment. "I suppose if I was in Nasher's place I would do the same; for all he knew we'd kill each other before we'd have made twenty paces from the front gate." She glanced at him furtively, her mouth pulling downward somewhat. "I dislike the fact that Lord Nasher thrust such vows on me...on us without consulting us. But I..." My gods, was her throat tightening? She must be sleepier than she thought. She trailed onwards quickly, "It could be advantageous to us to keep the vows, of course; it would explain your sudden lack of enthusiasm when asked to administer torture, for one." She tilted her head back against his shoulder to look into his face. His human face. "I...but...I do not particularly mind it, Bodaes." She found herself studying his now rounded eyes; they still watched her sharply, that same thoughtful, shrewd look settling at their corners that he always seemed to have.

She felt a creeping heat in her cheeks, and smoothly ducked her head back against his shoulder, adding coyly. "At least this way, I can ensure that Sir Nevalle is properly shunned."

Sand realized he could feel her fleeting thoughts in the back of his mind. They flitted through his consciousness, vaguely, shapes without forms. She seemed undecided about something - her words were stumbling, halting. _Curious._

"But won't Nasher find it...odd that we do not request that the vows are voided?" He quickly added, "I don't mind the vows either, dear girl - protecting you from the torture alone would be worth it though I wouldn't put it past Nasher and Vale to come up with some sort of loophole that both forced me to protect you AND torture you at their whims. I'm just thinking long term strategy."

Torio sighed. "Yes, I suppose it would seem odd at that if we didn't request it removed. Although at this point in time I'm more concerned about Nevalle's intentions than Nasher's and Vale's; I don't have to live with the latter every day at that moldering Keep." She watched as he pulled a blanket down over their legs from one of the high shelves above their heads. She kept her voice nonchalant. "If we have to ask them to nullify the vows, then we will. We'll do what we have to do." Why did the thought bother her so much?

Too much serious talk before sleep; the elf changed the topic. "So if we both shun Nevalle, as per the oath, then what do we both have to love? Wine? Books?"

She chuckled lightly at his comment, curling against his body under the blanket. "Of course, and more; thoroughly abusing your magical abilities? Invisibility spells come to mind." She yawned slightly, and glanced at him archly from under her lashes. "Poetry, maybe?"

_Each other? _He squelched the thought before it had barely time to surface from the murky depth of his subconscious, but whispered quietly, "You know I would have watched out for you, Helkaer, even without the vows."

There was a strange, flickering dissonance underneath his thoughts that he shoved almost immediately out of her reach. She shut her eyes, letting her body sink against his and muttering wryly, "A comforting thought, to be sure." She paused after a moment, and then opened her eyes again, studying his face in the semi-dimness.

Probably the only person in the realms at this point who would ever dream of protecting one such as her. Was he a fool for doing so? Sand, holding back the hordes of her enemies that were out for her blood? He was one elf; what could he possibly stop from happening to her?

And yet...her mind went to the ariik gem around his neck; she had risked punishment and all sorts of accusation if her letter to Kurth had been discovered, but despite the odds it was now resting around Sand's neck. Your meager attempt at protection.

Her voice, of its own volition, said quietly, "I know you would have." She pressed her hand against his thigh to give her leverage, and pushed herself up, lightly touching her mouth against his, a sudden, yawning sadness filling her chest.

He pulled her close for the kiss, picturing them writhing naked together on the throne at Crossroad Keep, and as soon as her lips touched his, an overwhelming sadness washed through his consciousness. It was so deep that it threatened to sweep him away... Startled, he pulled back and stared hard at Torio. "What's wrong?"

Torio blinked at him, startled for a moment. How did he...? The spell. She would have to be careful of even her thoughts now, it seemed. And yet...

She said, quietly, "It is unusual, I suppose, to have anyone wishing to protect me." She let a bitter twist pull at her mouth. "Ha! I am more accustomed to threats." Her eyebrow arched elegantly over one eye. "Not undeserved threats, either, I suppose." She bent forward, kissing him again. "Do not fret, Bodaes, I am perfectly fine." Her voice was warm as she murmured, "And I much prefer your thoughts to mine at the moment." The image of them on the throne still tugged at her mind, making her skin flush pleasantly.

Sand nuzzled her, his heart giving a swelling clench at her words. "Poor girl. You haven't had it easy, I shall give you that. But nor have you made it easy for others. And while threats may have been a part of your life and may be a part of your life now, perhaps, in the future - you can lead a more normal existence." He purposefully left off the end of the sentence he truly wanted to say. _With me._

"It appears the both of us were meant for expendable lives steeped in politics, betrayals and double-crossings whether we want it or not." Funny then - that he would trust her as much as he did.

Torio turned to face him fully on the bench, pulling the blanket around her as she did so. "Ah, but we take to it so well, do we not? If we weren't half as good as Nasher thinks us to be we wouldn't be here." She reached out and fingered a short lock of hair that thrust upwards from his head. "Or half as expendable."

"And a normal existence almost seems impossible at this point." Her face clouded momentarily as she ran the strands of his now short hair through her fingers. Her eyes darted to his and she smiled slightly, her normally mocking undertone gone for half a heartbeat. "But we shall see." Then she snorted lightly. "My immediate goal is to survive the coming week."

Sand wriggled down the carriage bench, trying to lie flat on his back. By Mystra, this was uncomfortable. Being shorter suddenly had its benefits. He was about a foot and a half too tall to stretch out completely so he bent his knees up, pulling Torio between them and on top of him. "How will we survive the week, dear girl? Any glorious plans? I haven't been to Luskan in years - You'll have to teach me the geography, names of people...

Torio nestled against Sand's body, stretching out, her face pressed against his shoulder. She yawned widely, her sudden state of being horizontal allowing her latent weariness to wash over her in an overpowering wave. "Little has changed; the Red Dragon is still top of the ladder when it comes to trading; you'll need to know that if anyone asks you about your merchant business."

Her voice slurred sleepily. "There are names you must know, as well...Admun Avardsson, Benheim Mattak, Monik Pearlman...merchants that you'll..."_Yawn_ "...need to be familiar with..." her voice trailed off as her eyes sank shut, and she fell asleep, her fingers curled slightly into the front of Sand's robes, grasping the fabric lightly to her as if the wizard would otherwise float away.

Sand held her to him, his larger frame easily embracing her smaller body. He watched her sleeping face, his human eyes able to take in only the barest of details. He had taken for granted his elven ability to watch her sleeping; it had become somewhat of a pastime of his if ever he woke up in the dead of night and was unable to fall back asleep. Her blonde hair had fallen across her cheek and he brushed it away. She had a slight frown on her face and her lips were twitching, moving silently. She made small noises of protest whenever the carriage hit a bumpy spot on the road. Her fingers were holding onto the front of his robes lightly and he pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, kissing the top of her hair. She had a pretty, vulnerable - almost innocent - look when she slept. The hard lines of her face softened to the point that she almost looked childlike, especially her nose.

Sand lay back and closed his eyes, shifting to get comfortable. He wasn't tired yet but it was comforting just holding her...

There was a strange fluttering in the back of his mind, gray confused shapes...Sand blinked and then stared down at Torio. She was dreaming... A part of Sand felt a pang of guilt at intruding upon her thoughts when she wasn't conscious to shield them from him.

_Oh, but they're just dreams, Sand. They don't mean anything..._He closed his eyes again, steadying his breathing and reached out with his mind...

_She was walking; a man walked at her side, taller and imposing, his robes eerily silent even though they brushed along the ground._

_Garius. She had walked this hallway before, years ago._

_She was dressed in fine silks; the scarlet sleeve of her dress was torn from her shoulder to her elbow, revealing bruised, purpling flesh. Her skin was oiled with a thick perfume and a layer of fearful, excited perspiration. Her hair was long, rich brown and perfectly coifed, a few tendrils snaking from the pins._

_"My dear...we need you."_

_A door opened. She was led inside; books stacked the tables; parchment, artifacts, inks and quills. Diagrams were plastered on the walls in languages she couldn't begin to comprehend..._

_"You've forgotten us, haven't you? Forgotten what real power feels like."_

_A sharp blade sheared her hair just as before; she watched it fall, clumps of her former glory surrounding her feet, her new shortened fringe brushing her cheekbones lightly. She turned; a mirror was there, reflecting a youthfully rounded face, the hardened edge to her features not yet formed; there was a wariness to her eyes, a precursor to the cold mistrust that would follow in the years to come._

_"It's never too late to come back, my dear."_

_She was suddenly standing on the docks of Luskan, facing the sea; her fine clothes were replaced with the rags of her youth, ludicrous on her grown adult body. She tried to move and found that she couldn't._

_Never too late. The sea was rising towards her; the sky churned above her head and the waves rolled ever forward, towering over her small frame. _

_...but you can't go back..._

_A pair of slanted blue eyes flashed through her mind._

_...or you don't want to..._

_The water crashed around her, and there was nothing but blackness._

_Garius._

Sand nearly recoiled physically. She was dreaming about Garius. He knew it was just a dream but he could feel the dark one's power even here. He saw flashes of images - a younger Torio, hurt, in a red dress... her hair getting cut short...Garius' voice, whispering quietly to her. Sand couldn't make out the words, but he understood the tone. Garius was searching for her.

He clutched her tightly to him, his mind still watching her dream.

She was in the sea now; he recognized the Luskan shores. She was resisting Garius - he could feel it, feel the way her mind turned, the way her body protested. Gods there was now water everywhere and then...then... Sand felt himself pulled into her dream for a moment, his blue eyes widening in surprise at the force at which her subconscious seemed to drag him in...he stared at her standing in the waves, as the water crashed over her...He tried to call out to her, tried to tell her...

She was drowning in her dream and he couldn't reach her anymore as the blackness surrounded them... He gasped in the air, pulling himself out of the dream, feeling as though the entire sea had washed into his lungs. She was stirring visibly and soon she opened an eye.

Torio sucked in a breath; the change in her senses, the feeling of her face squashing into Sand's chest, and the sound of the clattering carriage told her that she was awake. She felt stiff and a bit sore; what time was it? She opened one eye, her head still spinning slightly from the clinging traces of her dream.

"You're awake, dear girl."

"Mmmm," she said complained slightly as she shifted, her joints popping audibly. "How long have I been..." she almost said dreaming..."asleep?" She inhaled deeply, trying to stretch; she pushed herself up slightly and gazed up at the window, still seeing darkness outside.

She'd been dreaming of Garius? Her spine ran cold at her next thought. Was it only a dream? She rubbed a hand across her eyes, still feeling unrested despite her nap.

"The better part of an hour I suspect, Helkaer. Go back to sleep. You weren't sleeping well. Worried about Luskan?" He wasn't about to let her know he had seen her dreams. The budding trust between them seemed to indicate that she may feel that invading her dreams was a distinct violation. He yawned. "Dawn is a long ways off, yet and quite frankly, I don't know how well I'll be able to sleep on these bumpy roads."

Torio looked at him and chuckled wryly, her voice catching only slightly. "Only a fool would not be worried about what waits for us within Luskan's walls." She kissed the corner of his mouth, her eyes closing sleepily once again. "Uncomfortable, Bodaes? I can move if you like." A disappointing thought, but she knew the carriage was small and uncomfortable for her...for the taller bulkier Sand it must be akin to sleeping in a small, crated box rolling on the high seas. _Let's try not to think about the seas, Torio..._

Sand frowned slightly. "Oh I worry, dear girl, I worry. But there is nothing we can do at the moment other than sleep. And enjoy each other's company. And plot. " He sat up. "Just let me sit up and you can rest your head in my lap." He wanted to have her close in case she had another nightmare.

_Or do you really want to stop her from going to Garius if he comes back?_

He stroked her hair gently, watching her eyelids close. He realized he would fight Garius, tooth and nail, down to the last spell, to keep her from him. The thought surprised him; for once, the idea of facing Garius didn't make him want to curl up in a ball and rock back and forth.

He lifted the curtains from the windows again and stared out. They were in the countryside now, the trees and fields rushing past them. He wondered if they would stop and rest the horses, or if Nasher and Gend were in such a rush that they would simply switch carriage at the next outpost. He let the curtain drop again and leaned back, closing his eyes.

A few minutes later, he was asleep as well.


	5. Chapter 5

**Volume 2, Part V: Local Culture**

Torio's sleep was, this time, mercifully dreamless. When she next opened her eyes, early morning daylight streamed through the carriage windows, flickering as the carriage bounced and rattled on the road.

Sand was still sleeping, his head lolled back against the seat, mouth slightly open. She sat up gently, running a hand through her hair; the blonde mass was a mess, and she winced slightly as her fingers caught in the snarls. She watched her sleeping traveling companion for a moment...she could feel his unconscious mind humming slightly at the back of hers, a dull thrumming that resonated slightly with his breathing. He looked decidedly inelegant with his head rolling slightly against the wall of the carriage, and yet her mouth quirked in a wry, almost affectionate smile. Uncouth and uncivilized...

She felt a shift, and then the carriage seemed to be slowing down. The driver called out, "Port Llast! We're switching here!" And then the carriage began turning, navigating the narrow street they were on. She bent forward and kissed Sand lightly. "We're switching," she whispered.

Sand made an unhappy noise at being woken up. In Port Llast, no less. "Port Llast? Watch where you step, my dear, you might get some of the local culture on your boots."

He sat up. He was incredibly sore. His shoulder was still throbbing from where Gend had smacked him with the staff. He pulled back his shirt and looked; there was an angry purple bruise mottling the skin. Sand stretched as best he could in the cramped space, before trying to flatten his unruly human hair. "How's my hair?" He grinned at her and then rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He was thirsty and hungry.

Torio's pulse quickened as Sand's grin; his movements were still half-slowed with sleep, and his mouth curled lazily in a way that urged her to very quickly block her thoughts. "It's a mess," she said, chuckling lightly. "Welcome to the inelegance of being human." She didn't ask about hers; she had continued to keep her hair short over the years for a reason.

The carriage stopped by the stables and the driver opened the door for them. Sand stepped out gratefully, nodding to the middle aged man. "Will we have time to wander the city? Or are we to travel on immediately?"

The man replied, "My lord, you have two hours before we will be ready to move on. Port Llast should be safe enough for you and your lady. Guardsmen are posted at several locations but I can have an escort follow you if you wish?"

Sand shook his head. "No I believe we'll be fine. Nagendra, love? Shall we explore the illustrious Port Llast?"

She stepped down after Sand as they exited the carriage, wincing at the protests her body made at straightening fully. "I think we'll have to, Tanith, else my spine shall freeze in position." She smoothed her hands over her dress, frowning at the wrinkles, before throwing her hands up in mock despair. "After you, my love. And by all means, I shall do my best to avoid the local 'culture.'"

Sand took her hand in his and led her through the streets. The people of the town were already at their various stalls and shops, the streets full of simple countryfolk, farmers, peasants who scurried deferentially out of the way of the lord and his lady. Sand found himself remembering the last time he came through here: a mad dash through to look for witnesses, evidence - he glanced at the stall where Nya had her shop. Beyond that, he could just make out the tent where the two gnomes were camping. He never thought he'd find gnomes that made Grobnar look like Corellon Larethian.

They were passing a bakery and Sand could smell the fresh bread. "Come, wife, let us break our fast here!" He entered the shop and was immediately surrounded by the scent of pastries, cakes and loaves of bread. "Pick out anything you want, dear Nagendra."

Torio had to laugh; Sand had a flair for the dramatic whether he willed it or no, and she bent over the counter, squinting at the food.

She listened to Sand's thoughts in the background as her eyes flicked over various items; ...a mad rush, scrambling for evidence; gnomes who spoke in riddles, crazy gnomes in the forest, what was it with gnomes? Haeremos' furious expression, Elgun's wild tales, by the gods was everyone on the Sword Coast going crazy? Nya's face, pained, describing the carnage at Ember and the use of wyrmsage...

_...the faces of the dead staring up at them as Meaghan walked by, dropping the herbs over their corpses..._

She withdrew abruptly from his thoughts, her face drawn in a taught line. "There," She pointed to a small, rather sticky looking swirled bun. How long had it been since a decent sticky bun for breakfast? The cook back at the keep still had it in for her. She attempted to cover her momentary lapse by leaning against the counter and looking up at Sand over her shoulder, batting her eyelashes and feeling completely ridiculous. Act the part, after all. "If it's not too much trouble, dear husband?"

Sand smiled at her, "For you, my love, nothing is ever too much trouble." He looked up at the young girl at the counter. "Two of those, please." He slid two gold pieces on the counter towards her and then took the carefully wrapped packages, handing one to Torio and keeping the other for himself. They exited the bakery. "Well, dear, quite the sweet tooth." Sand was realizing that being human mean a diminished sense of smell and with that, went the refined sense of taste.

The end of the small village was approaching as they meandered slowly forward. He nodded his head to the right. "The tavern is there; perhaps we could have some tea?" He looked around and then whispered with a mock politeness, "I don't think there's much else here."

Torio couldn't help opening her bag and taking a discreet inhale of the wafting aroma coming from her bag. Her eyes rolled heavenward in appreciation. "A sweet tooth? Not normally, my dear, but one makes exceptions for certain things." She gazed around the small, squat town when Sand mentioned the tavern, and glanced down at the dirt road beneath her feet. "And you are not exaggerating, are you?" She flipped her hair over her shoulder haughtily, and slipped her arm through his. "To the tavern it is."

They walked down the street and through the door, the dim, warm light of the common room to the Alliance Arms Inn a sharp contrast to the bright morning air outside. A man stepped forward, smiling warmly. "Welcome, welcome! Come in, have a seat anywhere you like."

Sand nodded. "Thank you." The tavern was mostly empty. A few scattered people were sitting at a few scattered table, eating breakfast. He glanced around and then led them to a table by the window, not far from the door. Just in case. _My my Sand, you're getting paranoid, like our dear old ranger..._

A woman approached them. "Morning milord and lady! What can I get for you?"

Sand said simply, "A pot of tea, if you please. We have some bread already but any thing else that would be appropriate for the morning would be appreciated."

She nodded cheerily, left, and returned a short moment later with a ceramic pot of tea and two chipped mugs. A younger girl, no more than 10 years old, followed behind her carrying a platter of cured meats, cheeses and fruits. The older woman said, "If you need anything further, just yell for Lucy, and she'll serve you right quick. She's a good girl." Lucy, the child, gave a small curtsy before running back into the kitchen.

Torio arched a brow in Sand's direction once the girl disappeared. "A good girl," she repeated. "I'm being waited on by a creature who hasn't grown in all of her teeth yet." She shook her head in mock resignation; _fallen far, haven't you, girl_?

She pulled the bun from its packet and placed it in front of her; her eyes darted to Sand's face as she reached for the teapot, and...giving him a sardonic look, poured his cup of tea for him before turning the pot to her own cup._You're quite enjoying yourself, aren't you_?_Who wouldn't after being stuck in a carriage all night?_

Sand bit back a laugh as he reached for his tea. "Thank you, wife." He glanced at the kitchen door before replying. "Yes and I have to wonder how long it is before she starts losing them anyway." He gave her an amused smile as he watched the dainty way she handled the sweet bun. He pulled his own from the wrapping and took a bite. It was still warm; the icing sugar melted. "An excellent choice, Nagendra."

He looked out the window, the sun streaming on his face before turning back to her. Sand gave her another smile, feeling strangely happy; had they ever had the opportunity to have breakfast together like this? He picked up a piece of sliced apple, "After we've eaten, is there anything else you need while there's still time?

Torio held up a finger briefly, commandingly...she lifted the bun to her lips and took a delicate bite. _Oh gods..._She swallowed, licking sugar from her top lip, and glanced at Sand in amusement "Worth risking my life for, I suppose," she whispered, and chuckled, taking a sip of her tea.

She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "There's not much to these little coast towns, is there?" She fingered her somewhat disorderly mane of hair for a moment, her mouth twisting wryly. "I have no idea what Gend and his men packed for us; but I could do with a few essentials." She glanced archly at Sand, noting the way his hair still stuck up in multiple directions. "And so, dear Tanith, could you."

Sand laughed out loud at the sheer enjoyment she was deriving from the sticky bun. "Would you like a moment, dear girl, to be alone with that pastry? You appear to be getting rather intimate with it." Coyly, he flashed her an image of him licking melted icing sugar off her bare skin... He took another bite of his own sweet bun, smiling innocently. "Very well, Nagendra. You lead the way when we finish here and we'll purchase whatever supplies you believe we require."

Her fingers twitched against the tablecloth, eyes narrowing as the image he was sending her flashed through her mind. _So that's your idea of eating a proper breakfast, is it Sand? _She thought to him. Feeling decidedly lewd, she ran a finger around the frosted edge of the bun and absently, deliberately, slid her finger into her mouth, licking the frosting off.

She caught his eye, her long-lashed gaze hooded, and then matter of factly began eating, polishing off the bun in record time and drinking a final cup of tea. She picked through a few items on the tray before wiping her mouth, looking at him innocently. "Ready to leave?"

Sand exhaled slightly as he watched her sumptuous mouth lick the icing off her fingers. He felt his face starting to flush and he busied himself with drinking a cup of tea before his state became too obvious to the other patrons of the tavern. _We do have another 4 or so days in the carriage, dear girl..._

He finished eating and dropped a few gold coins on the table. "Yes. Ready to leave." He stood and pulled out her chair, helping her stand. He nodded politely to the Innkeeper and then exited back out onto the streets. "Where to now, wife?"

Torio primly took Sand's hand and led him out of the tavern; she paused for a moment to catch their bearings, then tugged at him, leading to some of the stalls arranged down the street. She managed to finagle for a few sundries, asking with deceptive sweetness for coins from her ''husband" when the time came for payment. After a few passes down the street, she nodded at her parcels approvingly. "Now we can at least pass through the gates of...our destination looking less like roaming gypsies and more like a respectable couple." She slid her hand through Sand's arm triumphantly. "Should we head back?"

"Yes I think we are due back quite soon. We best not be late otherwise we'll have to run the entire lengthy block and a half it would take us to get to the carriage." His tone was utterly sarcastic; he was afterall, a big city elf. The sun was shining now above their heads, making this walk seem for all the world, like a casual stroll through a small town but Sand knew that every step forward took them inexorably closer to Luskan. He tightened his grip on her hand.

They arrived back at the carriage, a new driver and horses waiting them. This time there was also a soldier waiting on the carriage. Sand stopped the driver. "What's the plan for the rest of the trip?"

"My lord." The driver gave a small bow. "We ride out until the border between Luskan and Neverwinter. There we switch again and the final carriage will take you the rest of the way."

Sand nodded and waited for the driver to open the door to the carriage for them to climb inside. He helped Torio in and then followed her, sitting besides her again and wondering briefly if they would be traveling anywhere near Ember and if the girl would remember it.

The carriage gave a small lurch and then they were on the road again.

Torio sighed to herself as the carriage started up again, the rattling, jarring ride beginning once again. She glanced at Sand, and smirked. "Let's see if I can make you look like less of some unwholesome roadside bandit."

She turned towards him, reaching into the bag she had acquired, and pulled out a comb, pulling his head down towards her. "Tangles," she tsked tartly. "Do elves even get tangles, Bodaes?" So saying, she began running the comb through his short hair with crisp, tugging strokes, her fingers holding his head still. She spoke quietly as she worked. "You should already know Jalboun is still active in Luskan, as Sydney's bodyguard. Inther Blackfeather is someone we'll have to watch out for, as well; he's rather well known as a trader, especially when it comes to merchandise of the human variety." She bent over a particularly stubborn knot, discreetly brushing her lips over Sand's forehead as she did so. "More than likely we'll only see his face if we end up failing our mission horribly, and are shown no ounce of leniency; slavery is usually much worse than death in Luskan."

Sand scowled as Torio began combing his hair like he was some child but he let tug at the mess of black on top of his head. Maybe she was worried or nervous or anxious but he was certain she didn't need to pull quite that hard. "Ow. Dear girl, really...ow..." He protested feebly. "Unless Sydney Natale is involved in this somehow I suspect we won't see Jalboun. If she's a wise woman, she'll keep that beast of a bodyguard close by. Ow!" Sand shut his eyes against the onslaught of good grooming. "I don't plan on being a slave; we have Gend's suicide pills if things get utterly desperate." His stomach gave a lurch and he knew it wasn't due to the bumpy ride. "I'll take my chances in the afterlife rather than in Luskan slavery. Ow." He disentangled himself from her fussing. "Dear girl, was that really necessary? We have another 3 days on the road!"

Torio snorted with wry laughter, holding her hands up defensively as she scooted away from him. "Merely getting into character; good human wives don't let their husbands go around looking like vagabonds." She was secretly somewhat pleased at Sand's mild discomfort; he always seemed so cool, unperturbed, all liquid grace and poise, and now he was sleeping awkwardly on carriage benches with a head full of tangles. She gave him a sly look before turning the comb on her own hair, wincing as she pulled out the worst of it. "You're right about Jalboun, of course...and although it might be too risky to consider recruitment when we're supposed to be upholding our personas, we shouldn't completely ignore opportunity if it presents itself." She dropped the comb and sighed, leaning back against the bench. "Kind of Neverwinter to give us two methods of escape; enchanted rings and deadly poison." She chuckled sardonically.

"If the opportunity presents itself, dear girl, then we shall take it. But I certainly won't go seeking it." Sand leaned back as well, staring at the opposite wall. "Well - I suspect I would be of use to them so the danger isn't as great for me. I am a mage of no small skill - the Hosttower would be foolish to give one of their own up like that. And if you could convince them that you serve Neverwinter only under threat of death - which is true, my dear - then perhaps they would seek to twist your anger and hate into a willingness to serve for revenge?"

His brow furrowed. "The matter of the oaths to Nasher, is of course, worrying but there are always ways to get around them. I'm certain the Arcane Brotherhood will have ways of circumventing those if it suits their purpose."

Sand reached out and took her hand. "If I can admit something frankly, dear girl, I think this mission of Nasher and Gend frightens me more than the King of Shadows. With the Guardian - we have friends, comrades, the public support of Neverwinter, armies at our back. With this - we have very little - except each other and our wits, of course. If we fail or are caught, we even lose our names and reputations. Not comforting thoughts and not much incentive to return to Neverwinter." His bitter tone surprised even him. He sighed, then laughed. "Listen to me. I'm confiding in you the way a husband would a wife!"

Torio's thumb traced across the back of his knuckles as Sand spoke, watching his face. The thought of Sand being frightened bemused her; she remembered standing across from him in the courtroom, their words bouncing back and forth with Oleff exasperatedly trying to get a sentence in edgewise. She had hated him; hated his smooth tongue and smug tone, hated the fact that he had helped those two young upstarts undermine all of her work. She had never considered him anything more than an enemy, a thorn in her side at best, a sniveling, two-faced, fleeing dog at worst. The news of him being frightened would have brought her unbridled delight, in the past.

Now, as he spoke, she realized he had turned from despised opponent who not a single thought should be wasted on, to someone she...trusted? Well, she supposed that was fair to say. He was one of the only people in that godsforsaken keep she did trust, not to mention one of the only ones she could talk to without some of her caustic wit going completely over their heads. She had gone from hating him, to suddenly knowing what made him laugh, what irritated him, what pleased him. What frightened him. _Amazing what a lust-driven tryst on a library table will do._

"I suppose you have more to lose than I do," she said absently, examining his face. "At this point all I seem to really have left worth losing is my life." _And you_. She ran her free hand through her hair, giving him a wry glance. "Whereas you have that expansive shop in the Docks and your illustrious reputation as the resident wizard and alchemist of the great Crossroads Keep." She squeezed his hand, turning her head to look out the carriage window briefly and fighting a sudden urge to say something foolish. Don't be frightened? I've killed for you before, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat?

She smirked, glancing at him. "Getting into character, are we, husband? I suppose it's comforting to know I placed highest on your scale of conversational partners." She chuckled. "Most husbands might prefer to confide in the horses."

Her touch on his hand was comforting in a way that was utterly new to Sand. It wasn't sexual or friendly...It was actually caring. Well - since he was apparently in a confiding mood...He cleared his throat. "The sealed parchment I gave Gend...would you like to know what's on it?"

She looked back at him, her eyebrows lifting curiously. There was a much different tone to his voice than before. "I suppose I would," she said lightly. "I thought they were last minute instructions to Aldanon on what books not to touch. Ever." She watched him expectantly, her heart pounding for some unexplainable reason

He scooted over closer to her. "That was my last will and testament, dear girl. Should I not make it back and you do survive? I've left you everything. The shop, my equipment, items, all my gold. If Nasher ever decides to release you from 'service', it would give you a place to live, perhaps make a bit of a livelihood. You could even sell the property, take the gold and leave Neverwinter - it's entirely up to you. If we both don't survive, it goes to Duncan. So try to make it back alive, dear girl, so everything I have worked for doesn't end up in the hands of that barkeep for him to squander away on ale and women. You have something to live for." Sand pressed his mouth to hers. Pulling back slightly, he stroked her face gently. "And don't get it in your head to try to kill me while we're out there for this gain - your vows to me will probably prevent you from doing it."

_His will...? _She watched him fixedly as he spoke; he slid close to her on the bench, kissed her, ran his fingers across her cheek. He'd left her everything.

Her chest was coiled so tightly she was finding it difficult to breathe; every heartbeat thudded painfully against her ribs. Trembling fingers were touching Sand's face...her fingers? There was a loud ringing in her ears, drowning out all other sound besides his voice.

_Say something. _"You...I..." Why would he do this? She swallowed past the growing knot in her throat, inhaled deeply, and steadied her voice. "Thank you." Not nearly enough to encompass what she wanted to say, but it would have to suffice. "Thank you," she said again, her voice slightly stronger. "But you needn't have bothered. You're coming back with me, you see." She closed the distance between their mouths again, kissing him hard.

Sand pulled her tightly to him, his arms holding her close. Her mind was alighted, buzzing with emotions and sensations he could feel. It pleased him that she would be so pleased; but it pleased him more that she would prefer to have him alive. His hand began stroking the small of her back; he inhaled and realized belatedly that he could no longer smell her delicious scent of books-and-candles as a human. Still...her closeness, the way her mind was stirring in his...

It would be hours before the next time they needed to stop and the carriage wheels were loud enough that it would probably block out any and all sounds; the roads were bumpy enough that any additional jostling would surely go unnoticed by the driver and the soldier...

He tugged on her skirt. "Dear girl, should we practice at being husband and wife? All in the name of patriotism and Neverwinter of course..."


	6. Chapter 6

_This story is Part VI of the Series and is rated M for graphic scenes of sexuality and nudity._

**Volume 2, Part VI: Mind's Eye**

Torio's snicker was smothered against his mouth; she pulled back, eyeing him shrewdly. "And just how patriotic are you, Sand?" Her eyes quickly darted around the small, enclosed carriage; by the gods, would they even have enough room? His hand was tugging at her skirt, and her skin was instantly aflame at the thought of those fingers peeling off her clothes, running along her body...

"I suppose I must follow your shining example, hero of Neverwinter." She spoke between fervent kisses, reaching for his robes and untying the laces that held them together, pulling them through the eyeholes as she pulled the fabric apart.

"I am very patriotic, dear girl, when it comes to matters such as this. I would be willing to sacrifice my human virginity for this cause. But I won't insult your intelligence by making a quip about saluting or standing at full attention..." He undid the laces of her skirt as quickly as his slow human fingers would allow and pulled the skirt as far down as possible in the cramped carriage.

_Well this was going to be interesting..._

He could feel his erection building at the sight and touch of her bare skin. He wondered briefly what making love to her as a human would be like._Well only one way to find out._

Torio stifled a gasp as she felt her skirt pull below her hips...but Sand's robe was finally undone and she could reach inside to where his trews were fastened, unceremoniously yanking his undershirt from the waistband. She flicked her feet, her shoes flying across the short span of space in the carriage and smacking into the far wall with twin dull thuds. He was already hardening against her fingers as she worked at the knot at his waist; she could feel her spine shivering with anticipation; would he look different as a human?

She found, almost at the exact same instant, that a flickering and almost identical thought about his changed state passed through Sand's head. _Well. This would be intriguing._

She pulled Sand's trews off of his hips, wriggling her skirt down so that it slipped off of her ankles; the wooden bench beneath them was rough against her legs and creaking ominously at their movements, and she let out a rather un-sensual, smothered laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

Torio pulled him off of the bench and in front of her, so that he knelt between her legs...she wrapped them around his now bare waist, and ran her hands up the front of his chest, nonchalantly pushing his robe off his shoulders and down his arms, letting it fall to the floor of the carriage. She could feel the coarse, curled hair that scattered down his legs rubbing against the inside of her thighs as she nudged her legs around his waist. "Not even a quip about triumphantly running the colors up the flagpole?" She tsked at him, and bunched her fingers around the bottom of his undershirt, pulling him close and catching his mouth with hers.

He closed his eyes, letting her mouth roam over his, and letting his mind roam through his own thoughts and fantasies and impressing them upon her. His mouth on her breasts, his hands pulling her backside to him, her teeth on his throat, the feel of the wetness between her legs...

He pulled her shirt up, stopping the kiss for a moment to pull the fabric over her face. He studied her nakedness in the afternoon sunlight, picking out the way the sun shone on her pale skin, bringing the mental image of her breasts to the forefront of his mind and his enjoyment of seeing the pinkish-brown nipples on breasts that were bouncing around along the rough road. This was going to be interesting; she would be able to see how he saw her.

Torio's legs were now wrapped around him, tickling the new dark curly hairs found below his navel. The head of his shaft was bobbing between her legs, touching her hot flesh as the carriage jolted up and then withdrawing when they hit a dip in the road. He might have to accidentally let himself pierce her with the next bump on the road…

Torio could feel her body tightening and thrumming in response to the imagery he was sending her; and he had hardly touched her yet, only to pull her blouse up over her head. She could see how she looked in his eyes as he brought it up in his mind; there was an unfamiliar, soft intensity to her face that she had never seen before when looking in a mirror. Was this how Sand saw her...or how she looked when around him? He nudged the image of her naked body into her thoughts; she felt his arousal at the sight of her reach down through her brain and spread through her skin like a physical caress, and she shivered, pulling his undershirt up; she thought up an image of him stretched out, her mouth closing around his stiffened manhood, her fingers sinking into his backside and pulling him between her lips...

The carriage bumped unexpectedly, and she felt him slide into her partially, the sensation piercing her already moist flesh and tearing a startled cry from her throat. His arms were still through his shirt, the fabric stuck behind his head where she had pulled it up, and she slid forward as the carriage came down again, her arms clutching at him. Her face rocked forward, inches from where his neck lay exposed...and without hesitation, she promptly sank her teeth into the white, perfect flesh, biting him viciously in a parody of the mental image he had sent her, her tongue flicking against the flesh as she sucked at it.

Sand moaned aloud when he experienced the image of her lips around the head of his shaft - he could almost feel it, relive it - it felt wet and hot, as if truly in her mouth. It was bizarre and arousing to be watching her memory or fantasy of her administering her sexual favors to him; it was like he was in the room, spying on himself. Which was fitting, considering both their professions at the Keep...

"Oh by the gods, dear girl, you'll finish me without even having to touch me..." Sand cried out in both pleasure and pain as she bit him fully across the throat. He gave a low growl (_ooh he'd have to get used to that deeper voice_) and grabbed her around the hips, forcing himself inside her and holding her against the entire length of him as the pain on his neck subsided.

Torio let out a ragged exhale, feeling the entire length of him push insistently into her body. She felt her walls clench and pulse around him, the rattling of the carriage making their bodies shift and move ever so slightly against each other.

"Without having to touch you?" She said haltingly, her throat thick with desire. "Oh come now...there must be some touching involved." She moved her hips against him slightly, feeling his throbbing head slide down the length of her canal and back up again. She stifled a moan, pressing her mouth against his neck for a moment. Feeling decidedly lewd (she was positive the mage who perfected _Rary's Telepathic Bond_ never knew it would be used for such things), she ran her tongue slowly up the side of his throat, easing the sting of where her teeth had marked him; in her mind, in the image that she held there, her tongue ran up his shaft, flicking lightly against the head just as it flicked against the base of his ear in the physical world.

Sand nearly started hyperventilating at the combination of the delicious images of her mind, her tongue on his neck and the feeling of her muscles pulling his member in. There was a building synchrony of the three as formed a blissful synergism of sensation so that it appeared to Sand that she was everywhere on his body at once, thrusting, licking, sucking. There was a sharp, shooting white hot thrill that ran from the base of his spine up through the top of his head.

He pushed her shoulders back slightly, supporting her weight easily with his arms with his new strength. He closed his mouth around her nipple, suckling her flesh, his tongue massaging the coral pink flesh of her breast while his mind flashed back to their first night in the Library, with her lying on her back on the table, her knees over his shoulders as he sucked on her delicate nub and her voice hoarsely whispering in Drow.

Her lolled back between her shoulders, gasping unabashedly as she felt his mouth close around her skin; she found herself unconsciously whispering along with her own words in Sand's mind, shooting heat building between her legs; She could almost feel his tongue sliding against her, and coupled with the ever pulsating presence of his manhood resting inside of her folds made her entire body tighten. For a moment, she was lost between fantasy and reality, unsure as to whether the wood that scraped against her back and buttocks was the wood of a carriage bench, or that of a library table.

She intertwined her legs around Sand's waist, pulling up into her mind the first night in his chambers; the flirtatious talk of Luskan trade routes and then his body stretched out over her, riding her down into the mattress, his hips smacking against hers so fiercely. Her own hips thrust in sympathy, then pulled back and thrust again, feeling the wracking lances of pleasure rocket through her body as she impaled herself again and again. "Yes," her voice called out in the memory, and her own voice echoed it, her fingers cupping the back of Sand's head and pulling his mouth harder against her flesh.

His chest was heaving, his breath coming in short, staccato gulps even as he continued to work his mouth wetly on her breast. She was making love to both his mind and his body at the same time. The carriage was too small for him to try laying her out on her back so instead...

He closed his eyes, bringing up the memory of her on all fours in front of him - his mind's eye followed the curve of her back, the narrowing of her waist, the flare of her hips. He remembered the way his thrusts shook her body and the bed, how easy it was to move quickly and with precision from that position, how the release had caused him to lose all control of his muscles holding him up...

He thrust into her in real life, in the carriage, feeling the new sensation of her now and the traces of his memory lingering in his mind. "Oh gods, dear girl - you feel wonderful..." The last word was caught in a moan as his manhood tightened in response to the friction. The shaking of the carriage seemed to send the vibration of bodily ecstasy through him.

One of her hands clamped against the seat, fingers gouging into the wood as the carriage rattled and shook them, sending her body rocking against his. Her spine was tingling with the memory of him behind her, fingers digging into her hips, thrusting into her with quick, sharp, precise movements until it had all rolled into one unstoppable wave of pleasure...

She heard a rhythmical, whimpering noise interspersed with her breathing, biting her lip as he shoved in to her, his voice moaning raggedly against her flesh. She brought to mind a night with silk sashes, arms and legs tied and bound to the bedposts...

...except that this time, in her mind's eye, it was Sand lashed to the bed, with her working between his legs; her mouth, her fingers, exploring his body while he lay there helpless, just as she had been. She exhaled raggedly in the carriage; the stubble on his cheeks was rubbing against the sensitive skin of her breasts, a sharp contrast to the soft wetness of his tongue, and she writhed against him, her hips pressing forward eagerly against his. She wasn't sure how much more of this she could take without bursting at the seams...

It was surprising in a way, but it was her fantasy of him secured firmly to his bed that finally sent Sand over the point of reined-in pleasure. He understood the power he had had over her that night, the trust she had placed in him to allow him to do that to her. Now he delved uncontrollably into her imagination, feeling the silk ropes the way she had felt them, her sweet mouth and tongue, her skilled fingers, the glint in her gray eyes, the exposed way she held him to her mercy... She was dangerous and power-hungry and was probably still tempted to kill him on occasion...

_I'm yours, dear girl, you don't need the ropes to keep me..._

The thought came forward, unbidden, from one of the only truly honest parts of his mind. Sand nearly sighed at the strange mental release that came from the truth. The carriage hit a hard rut in the road, causing Sand to impale himself roughly into Torio. He gasped, pulling his mouth from her breast and buried his face against her shoulder. "Oh my gods..." Using his hands, he began physically lifting and sliding her whole body hard against his stiffened erection, her slick walls slipping around the head. His whole shaft was throbbing, the constriction tightening around his entire groin.

And then the carriage hit another bump in the road and Sand lost the final inch of self-discipline he had. He groaned so loudly he was certain the driver would stop the horses but he didn't care. He pumped himself hard into her, the muscles contracting rhythmically, his breathing erratic, his skin shiny with sweat - he felt himself spilling inside her, each spurt seeming to say, to promise,_ I'm yours..._

Torio clung to him, eyes squeezed shut, the images in their minds blurring together as she felt his hands lift her off of the bench, guiding her against him with hard, rapid strokes.

_I'm yours._

It echoed through her head, underneath their passionate, intertwined memories; she gripped him, clawed at his shoulders as her body jolted in a spasming climax, her mouth pressed against the side of his neck and smothering the sharp, longing cry that tore from her throat. The pulsing of his shaft inside of her body seemed to send ripples of heat throughout her, and she clutched at him as he gave himself to her, emptying his essence deep into her body, his hands cupping her buttocks and holding her hips against his; she could see the sunlight flickering through the curtained windows and skittering across his damp, shining skin, could hear his voice moaning insensibly close to her ear; she could almost feel the pulse in his throat against her mouth from where she pressed it against his skin. _Mine, mine, mine, mine..._

Still she clung to him as the last traces of her orgasm fled, and the images in her mind were effectively silenced. He was breathing raggedly, his body sticking to hers. Her cheek was wet...she nuzzled his shoulder, wiping it off, choosing to believe that it was merely perspiration rolling down her skin. "Sand," she said, breathing hard...but nothing else would come to her lips.

Sand lifted his head, and gently pulled her face back to face him. He could feel a turmoil of emotions raging in her mind but refrained from probing deeper. It wasn't right. Wordlessly, he wiped her cheeks with his thumbs, noticing the way the wetness in her eyes made her eyelashes darken and clump together in a reconciled, beautiful way. He kissed the tip of her nose.

"Torio." He whispered, pulling her back to him. They weren't supposed to be using their real names, but gods be damned if he would call her Nagendra at this moment. His heart was racing and not from the coupling; there was something else, something he didn't dare acknowledge. Not now anyway, not when they should be focused on the task at hand. It would only serve to distract them. Plus, if either one of them didn't make it back, it wouldn't be fair to the other.

She sighed raggedly against him, calming her heartbeat down; she nestled against him for a moment, feeling the way his larger body seemed to envelope hers._Dangerous waters, Claven. _Maybe the imminence of their probable deaths was the cause of the torrent inside of her. And Sand had left her everything...She had to survive to make it matter, anyway. Technically, so did he.

She flinched mentally at the raw, firey pain that shot through her at the thought of Sand's will actually needing to be executed, and pulled back from him, her mouth curling into a wry smile to cover her lapse. "I think you've managed to instill a little patriotism in me after all," she said lightly; she touched his cheek briefly while she disentangled her legs from around his waist, reluctantly letting him go. She kissed him and twisted on the bench, reaching for her discarded clothes on the floor. "I must say, none of my other rides across the countryside have ever been like this."

Sand snorted. "This has to be the most pleasant trip I have ever taken. No gnome, no ranger, no paladin, no sorceress, no dwarf...ahh...basically none of my companions. Go figure it would be a trip to my impending doom. The gods do have some merciful considerations." He pulled on his trews but left his robe off, wearing only the undertunic. The sun was beating down on their carriage now and the air was stifling so he pushed opened one of the shuttered windows carefully. He pulled himself back onto the bench, "We likely won't reach the border until dark, dear girl." Sand leaned back and closed his eyes. "They'll probably want us to switch carriage under the cover of night."

Torio wriggled back into her clothes, her skin protesting against the stifling fabric, and leaned forward towards the open window; she daren't lean outside of it, but she brought her face as close to it as she could, closing her eyes and letting the breeze caress her flushed face. "At least you never had to travel with Garius; it never mattered how long I served under him, I still never could get a wink of sleep when we traveled over land, or by ship. He never seemed to sleep, himself..." She snorted, glancing at him over her shoulder; the wind rushing by the carriage caressed her long hair and flitted soothingly against the heated back of her neck. "And don't get me started on Lorne...by the gods, I would trade him for the gnome any day."

"Well...the mystery of the bags under Garius' eyes is now partially solved. At least now as a flaming skull, he doesn't have to worry about that." Sand stretched and then without asking, lay out as best he could across the small bench, resting his head on her lap. "Lorne was a beast. I'm surprised Garius tolerated him as long as he did though I suppose he had his uses. I'm guessing the two of you didn't get along?"

She looked down at him in amusement, leaning against the wall; she let one finger lazily trace through his hair as she answered, "Lorne and I were completely different; and Garius used us for completely different purposes. Some doors needed to be broken down with words and manipulation." She chuckled coldly. "Some needed brute strength."

She relaxed, settling against the back of the bench contentedly. "Lorne didn't really believe in Garius' cause." Her voice got quieter. "Nor did I, I suppose. The only one who followed so devotedly was Garius' apprentice Ahja." Her lip curled disdainfully. "A powerful little mageling, but gods, I never knew a boy so naive...I wouldn't have believed he was Illuskan if I hadn't known it as fact myself." She found it odd to be talking about the people that had used to surround her daily life, of her past; but what harm could it do? Both Ahja and Lorne were dead...and Garius too, in a technical sense. And they couldn't reach her here.

She thought of her dream from the evening before, and a chill crawled up her spine...but she merely curled a handful of Sand's hair through her fingers. "Besides, Lorne was lacking the conversational skills needed to trade coherent words with a ripe vegetable, let alone myself."

Sand snickered and then closed his eyes contentedly as she began running her hand through his hair. "Did you know Lorne was a Harborman like our glorious Knight Captain? That says something about fate. Or destiny. Or just the strange intricacies of the world we live in." He made a happy noise as her fingers brushed the hair at the back of his head. "I would have liked to have tested my skill against this Ahja. But, let me guess, he died due to an untimely visit of an axe to the front of his head?"

"A Harborman? I heard them muttering something to the effect at the trial by combat." As different as things were now, she still remembered the look on Sand's face when she strode to the center of the courtroom and shouted to the heavens for a trial by combat. He'd looked murderous. He did look particularly delectable when murderous.

Sand fell silent a moment. "What are you willing to do for the success of this mission?"

Her hand froze against his head as the silence fell thick in the small carriage compartment. She glanced down at his face in her lap. "The success of this mission would include retrieving the map, killing this Asrar, and returning to Neverwinter alive and with all of our pieces in tact." She added after a moments pause, "Both of us." She stared at the opposite wall, feeling a familiar, cold heaviness in her stomach. "For that, I'd be willing to do anything I had to."

"Anything you had to?" Sand shifted his position so he could better see her eyes. She seemed oddly determined. He could see why Garius had hand-picked her. Her desire to see something through successfully to the end, despite the cost, was impressive. "Careful, dear girl, when you say that. Luskans can be rather creative and... exorbitant... in their prices, when it comes down to it. This...Asrar - is he a Luskan? Have you heard of him before this task? Creating such a map is no small feat."

"Don't tell me to be careful, Bodaes," she snapped; the Elven word that had become an endearment sounded more of a curse as she spat it out. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "If our lives are on the line then we must prepared to do anything to survive, no matter how distasteful. You do not have the option of running to Neverwinter for protection, this time."

They were out of her mouth before she really thought about them. They were words she had lived by her entire life. The things she had done to survive were beyond distasteful, some of them, but whatever other horrible things she was, she was alive, at least.

The dead assassin's words rang in her ears once again..._he's too good for you_...

She looked down into Sand's eyes and sighed, suddenly weary. Her head dropped forward into her lap, her forehead pressing against his. "Amin eidylyndror," she whispered. My apologies. "But you must know that if it keeps us alive, I will do it. If it means the success of our mission, I will do it. You do not have to understand it; but I know all too well the prices Luskan demands from its 'children.'" The words were bitter as they rolled off her tongue. "And that is why I think Nasher risked sending me."

"As for the man behind the map, I have not heard of him; I don't think he's originally from Luskan; very few true members of the city would risk so openly flaunting a magical artifact without fearing the Hosttower's reaction." Her fingers remained lightly against his head, but she stared blankly at the window open, her mind churning as the trees whizzed by outside.

Sand shook his head. "No need to apologize, Helkaer. I shouldn't have asked if I was only going to...lecture you." He took her hand and lightly kissed the fingertips. "I have done my fair share of distasteful Luskan activities, best not to be mentioned on a full stomach. At the time that I...left, tailed tucked between my legs as you so like to remind me, I felt as though I had paid enough; I just wonder how much more I will have to pay before I am finally free of that accursed city."

Sand closed his eyes. "Let us hope Asrar's ignorance of Luskan serves our purposes then. We may not have to kill him; he may get himself killed. The less blood on our hands, the better."


	7. Chapter 7

**Volume 2, Part VII: Those Wicked Luskan Ways**

The rest of the afternoon passed without incidence. They stopped briefly for dinner, pulling out dried meats and fruits and drinking water from a waterskin before being quickly hustled onwards again. Now it was night. The moon outside was waning, the sliver of silver barely casting any light. The driver slowed the carriage down and gave a sharp whistle. From somewhere in the trees, a response was returned and a second carriage pulled up. Immediately, there was a bustle of activity as bags and equipment were hurriedly removed from one carriage and shoved into the other, no words being exchanged between the two parties. The sooner they were on the road again, the less of a chance a Luskan spy would spot them.

It went on like this; always moving, never stopping for anything longer than the time it took to transfer baggage, passengers, and drivers, and continue on the road. They traveled north in a haze of fitful dozing and wakefulness; the air gradually became colder, a sharp saltiness in the air telling them that the road through the woods was taking them closer to the great expanse of water that was the Sea of Swords.

It was late afternoon on the fifth day when their final carriage pulled in sight of Luskan. The water glittered before them, stretching out to the west, while the City of Sails hugged its edge greedily, long spindles of dockworks stretching out into the water like grasping fingers.

Torio pressed herself back against the bench, but she couldn't help her eager eyes...it had been so long since she'd seen it, though now the urgent nervousness that was their mission began settling on her at last as they approached. She glanced over at Sand, her forehead furrowed with a frown.

They were approaching the South Gate. Sand couldn't help scanning the Luskan skyline for his old tower. There it was: the Sea Tower, sitting on Cutlass Island, out in the water. He remembered nights of roaming the hall, furtively, on some errand or other. He remembered forcing himself to ignore the occasional bodies that were hurled out the windows into the water or grounds below, in various states of being charred, dismantled, decomposing, polymorphed, transmuted, enchanted...

His eyes went automatically to the other tall tower on Cutlass Island: the actual Host Tower. It rose up in the night sky like a dark twisted tree. Even staring at the Tower, Sand felt the irresistible urge to huddle up besides Torio and hide behind her, as ridiculous as it sounded. It had been years since he was last here and yet it was like it was yesterday.

He swallowed nervously and reached out for Torio's hand. "Well, my dear Nagendra. Are we ready?"

Her mind uttered, _No_. She was suddenly and irrationally longing for her cramped, shabby, familiar room back at Crossroads Keep. But she schooled her face into a calm mask and squeezed his hand. "We are, Tanith," she said evenly. "We have to be." She glanced out the window. "_Hist_, here come the gates..."

The carriage clattered to a halt before tall, barred gates; she watched as a dark-uniformed and armored figure approached the carriage, gesturing for the driver to step down. A heavily metalled fist clamed down on the door handle and yanked it open. "Out," ordered a voice hidden behind a helm. "Papers."

Sand's heart nearly leapt into his throat.

_Oh gods -_

_They were really here._

_They were really doing this._

_They were really going to die..._

He stepped out of the carriage, trying to keep his legs from shaking too badly. He handed the forged paper over to the guard before turning around and offering his hand to Torio, the way a good husband would.

Torio stood ramrod straight, a slightly bored expression on her face as the guard scrutinized the forged identification papers, as well as their invitation to Orban Asrar's auction. He seemed to be looking at them for an impolite amount of time.

Finally he said sharply, "Tanith and Nagendra Couleuvra? From Waterdeep." The helm snapped in their direction. "There are rules here that you must abide by, foreigners or no. Ignorance is not an excuse, and a personal invitation into the city is not justification. Obey them, or you will be thrown in prison." The guard seemed to squint down through the eyeslit in his helm. "This seal seems funny to me...Captain!" He turned his head back towards the guard tower by the gate. "Come here and have a look at this!"

Sand wondered briefly if killing the guard and the Captain would be a good start to their foray into Luskan. He could try casting a _Daze_ or a _Sleep_ spell...

Instead he said passively, "Then tell me the rules and let us be on our way. It is late and my wife and I have reservations at the Inn." He shot a discrete look at the Captain approaching them.

The Captain gave the seal a cursory look, studying Sand and Torio's faces a moment. "Aye, funny indeed but not so funny that some gold wouldn't help me forget it..."

"Ah," Sand said smoothly. "Then let me impair your memory and that of your guard here..." He reached for his coin purse, dropping 10 gold pieces into the Captain's hand.

The Captain handed the documents back to Sand. "Rules are simple. Stay away from the Throat - that's the main watertower - on the North Bank. You will be shot on sight. Same goes for the Whitesails Harbor. Oh and I shouldn't have to tell you to stay away from Cutlass Island. Conduct your business then get out. We tolerate visitors, not loiterers."

Torio curtsied stiffly as the Captain and his guard moved back towards the tower, the former thrusting the papers back into Sand's hands before moving on. A hue and cry went up, and then the gates slowly began creaking open; the driver came back to help her climb back the carriage before taking his place again behind the reins.

Once Sand was seated next to her, they heard the crack of the whip, and the carriage pulled into the city; Torio peered out of the curtained window as they rode by, keeping her face hidden behind the roughspun cloth; signs and buildings passed by them. "Let me see that invitation," she whispered to Sand, and without further ado, pulled the parchment from his grasp, inspecting the writing. "The Reach district," she said automatically. "Asrar seems to have a temporary home there; the auction is being held there late this evening." She looked out the window again, narrowing her eyes at the passing streets. "I believe it's the Seven Sails for us, Tanith."

Sand watched the carriage move up Reavers Run, the buildings in Luskan drab, squat, depressing. They were heading towards the northeastern parts of the city. Sand could see the large Inn come into view, built of large pieces of timber to resemble a shark's fin cutting through the water. There were multiple flowerboxes decorating each window, the pink and yellow flowers a strange contrast to the earlier gray colors.

The carriage stopped in front of the Inn and the driver opened the door. Immediately, the serving staff from the Seven Sails convened around them. "Good evening, sir. You are?" A butler gave Sand a short bow before helping Torio down from the carriage.

"I am Tanith Couleuvra, and this is my wife, Nagendra." Sand gave him a dismissive look, before watching the hurried unpacking of the carriage by the staff.

"Ah yes yes. We have been expecting you. Your room is ready. Your horses and servants will be housed at Baliver's stables by the North Gate. If you require them at anytime, please, feel free to use our runners and they will be most happy to fetch them for you." The butler gestured towards the main entrance. "Please, follow me." He turned with a flourish and entered the Inn.

As Torio stepped down out of the carriage, her face was calm; but her mind was working furiously. _Ware this place; the Hosttower keeps spies here at all times. Even the servants can't be trusted. Try not to use magic; you should already know that any spellcasting within the city walls can open the door to scrying_.

She took Sand's arm coyly. "Shall we head inside, Tanith?" She gave him a nudge, and they walked through the front door.

A cheerful looking woman greeted them, her apron spotless and her voice hushed; there was almost no one in the common room, but many servants could be seen carrying trays laden with food or drinks up the stairs towards the rooms. She smiled. "Will you please follow me, my lord and lady? I shall show you to your rooms." She turned and walked up the stairs, glancing over her shoulder to ensure they were following.

Sand blinked at the sudden barrage of information from Torio but simply thought, _Thank you_. The less they used the telepathic bond, the better. Sand led her slowly up the stairs and followed the woman down a well lit hallway, to a door towards the end. She unlocked it and then handed the bronzed key to Sand. "A bath has been drawn for you. What do you wish for supper? We have a lovely salmon butter cream sauce on greens tonight."

Sand nodded, "That sounds excellent. Send up a bottle of the house wine as well." He stepped through the door to the room, examining it quickly. The main entrance led directly to a large sitting area, with a divan and a dining table. Beyond, through a set of thin curtains was the sleeping area with a large bed and desk. To the right, behind an elegant wooden divide was a steaming bath, the shelves of the wall nearby lined with bottles of oils and perfumes. The servants had already brought up much of their bags.

Sand closed the door, locking it. He turned to Torio, "Nagendra, if you wish to have a bath, I shall await my turn and the food."

Despite the stiff, inherent nervousness that trilled along her veins, the thought of a bath after five days on the road was overwhelmingly tempting. "Of course, Tanith, I shan't be long." She tried not to full out sprint towards the wooden divide; she carefully peeled her travel stained dress off of her body and stepped into the water, nearly moaning in relief as she felt the days of travel and road dust wash off her skin.

As she washed, she heard a servant enter once again with their food; she heard the pop! of a cork being removed from a wine bottle, and the servant politely asking Master Couleuvra if he or his wife needed anything else.

_My gods, we're really going to do this._

She stood out of the bath when the servant left, daintily picking up one of the available towels and wrapping it around her as she stepped out of the tub. She squeezed out her now long hair...gods, but wasn't it easier when it was short...and coiled it into a knot at the nape of her neck, keeping it off of her face for now.

She stepped around the divide, her stomach feeling suddenly queasy. "It's all yours, dear husband."

Sand poured himself and Torio a glass of wine. He sat at the table, sampling the salmon sauce. It was pleasant, rich but not too salty, and he picked through a bit of it before he found himself too anxious to really enjoy and eat. Instead he picked up the goblet of wine and drained it completely, pouring himself a fresh glass just as Torio stepped out from the divide.

He looked up. She was standing there, her blonde hair dark from the water, her skin still damp, her body barely covered by her towel. He allowed himself a moment to study her figure, her revealed legs under the terrycloth, the droplets of water on her collarbone... He picked up her glass of wine and handed it to her. "Cheers, wife. To Luskan." But instead of drinking the wine, he kissed her mouth, smelling the perfumed soap. "The food is here, my love. Go ahead and eat." He took a sip of the wine and then stepped behind the divide.

Placing the glass on a shelf, he quickly undressed, tossing the clothes on the floor. He climbed inside the tub, the warm water soothing his aching muscles. The bruise on his shoulder was nothing more than a light greenish mark. He picked up his wine again, swirling the glass thoughtfully as he sat in the bath. Asrar was having a social gathering before the auction but he would not likely be carrying the map then. In fact, he probably would not have the map on him at all. They would probably have to win the auction to see the map; otherwise they'd have to retrieve it from who ever won. And that still left the problem of how to dispatch of him.

Sand finished his wine, putting the glass back on the shelf. He closed his eyes and sank beneath the water of the bath. It was dark under the water, the sound of the water low and humming and soothing. Peaceful. Sand held his breath as long as he could before coming back up for air, gasping. He finished washing and then stepped out of the basin, wrapping a dark towel around his waist and walking around the divider.

Torio had sat down at the table, the towel snugly around her body. The food looked delicious, smelled wonderful, but her stomach wouldn't stand still. She drank the wine, swishing it around her mouth as she set the glass down. She could hear the soft splashing noises of Sand moving about in the tub, and picked up her utensil; she prodded through the sauce-covered greens on her plate, shutting her eyes, and tried to imagine him lying in the tub, water running across his body; her ragged nerves ebbed slightly as a flush ran across her skin, her stomach quieting and her lips parting as she drew in a steady breath. _Well; hopefully imagining Sand naked in a bath tub will help calm you down for the rest of the evening..._

When she opened her eyes again, he was standing there in a towel, the fabric hugging his narrow human hips just below his naval; the soft hairs on his body curled damply against his skin. She stared at him...her hand had stopped in mid-motion over her plate, and after a moment her fork scraped noisily against the plate as her weight pressed against it, breaking her out of her reverie.

_What's gotten in to you, girl? Relax, relax, relax..._

Her heart thudded noisily in her chest, and she looked away from him, feeling the careful knot of hair at the back of her head beginning to uncoil and drip in wet strands down her neck. She refilled her wineglass, glancing archly at him, her mouth pressing together to hide the smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "You seem to have lost your wineglass, Tanith."

Sand sat across from her. "No, I've already had two full glasses. Anymore, dear girl, and I worry I won't be able to control myself. We mustn't have a repeat of the Library, now." He leaned across the table and brushed her cheek with his lips. "If you're done with the food, love, bring the bottle of wine to bed and join me. I need sleep." It startled Sand slightly how easily he had slipped into playing Torio's husband, even calling her 'love' with the casual conviction of one who has done it for years. "I need to refresh my spells list. Asrar is not expecting us at his home until sunset tonight for the social." He stood from the table, and walked toward the curtained divide. Glancing coyly over his shoulder, he let the towel drop before moving to the sleeping area and climbing into the bed

Torio watched him unabashedly as he walked towards the bed, admiring his tautly muscled backside, the ripple of his human shoulders...

"It amazes me that you will do the gods know what in a carriage of all places, my dear, and yet when presented with a perfectly respectable bed you would rather sleep on it." She haughtily picked up the bottle and twisted a bit, letting the towel fall back against the chair as she stood. She followed him to the bed, walking across the room and pulling back the covers, the fabric soft under her fingers and against her skin as she slid into it.

Sand laughed, "Oh but my dear, beds are so boring. One must keep marriage interesting, wouldn't you agree? We must continue to be adventurous." He resisted flashing the image of them on the throne at her again. Sand pressed his naked body against hers, trying to keep the feelings of desires suppressed. He could feel the amulet with the ariik stone lying coolly against his chest. He pulled out his spellbook from the small personal satchel that had been placed beside the bed and began flipping through, looking for spells that would best suit them this evening.

Life or death decisions. Literally.

She set the wine bottle next to the bed on the elaborately carved nightstand and curled against him, looking over his shoulder into the spellbook; she didn't understand any of the runic words printed onto the page; she would recognize a symbol here or there, but mashed together they made no sense to her. "Ah, but beds have their uses. Rather sturdy anchors when it comes to silk bindings."

He was aware of her soft skin on his, he could feel her steady breathing as he studied and he glanced up warmly at her. "As strange as this sounds, wife, but...I'm enjoying this moment with you."

She absently ran a hand back and forth across his chest, her damp hair sliding coolly across the backs of her shoulders as she laid her head against the pillows. She laughed lightly at his comment. "As strange as it sounds? You mean you don't normally enjoy my company, husband?" She pulled her mouth into a pouting frown, her fingers tip-toeing across his chest

"Oh wife," Sand chided her softly. "You know what I mean. A moment together where we're not arguing or tearing into each others' clothing." He kissed her puckered lips. He wondered vaguely if the room was being scryed by the Arcane Brotherhood. He wouldn't put it past them. "You know, your pout makes you irresistible to me, dear girl. It's no wonder I can't resist buying you things, priestess of Sune be damned." He winked at her and then put the spellbook down. "I'm done for now."

He wrapped an arm around her waist. "Wake me in 4 hours, Nagendra, my love."

She chuckled against his mouth. "There is no clothing to be torn, and I am much too comfortable to argue with you now, beloved." She huddled down against the bed, pulling Sand's arm tighter around her waist.

He fell asleep quickly, his breathing deepening; she felt the soft, gentle fluttering at the back of his mind as unconscious thoughts struggled to form and then collapsed into nothingness against, never taking shape. She pressed herself against him, feeling his side push gently against her breasts, all the way down to where her toes lightly touched his; she reached down and pushed gently into his sleeping mind, feeling only the slightest pang of guilt…

* * *

Being human apparently also meant having human dreams.

_He was walking down a long basement hallway. In his dream, it was the basement in his shop except that he knew his shop didn't have a basement. His dream also told him this hallway was in Luskan and Sand recognized it as one of the halls of the Sea Tower. But how could it be both the hall of the Sea Tower and his shop? It was a dream, and so his mind accepted this fact and rejected it at the same time. _

_He continued walking. There was a door ahead of him and he tried to get there faster but it was as if his muscles were fighting off the effects of a paralytic spell; each step was slow, as if through mud. Sand looked down and noticed he was carrying a silver tray, like the trays of the servants at the Seven Sails Inn. Whatever was on the tray was large and round in shape, but hidden by a white cloth. It was eerily the same size and shape of a human head._

_Suddenly he was before the door and it opened. Inside was Garius and Sand knew he had to give him whatever was on the tray to get the map. Why did Garius have the map? But he couldn't give him the tray; his arms wouldn't go forward and his throat was constricting with a sharp bolt of desperation and sadness. Suddenly in his dream, he knew whose head it was._

_Sand sunk to his knees, the tray mysteriously out of his hands and gone from the dream. When he looked up again, the paladin was standing besides Garius. Casavir? Sand tried to speak but his mouth wouldn't form the words. The paladin was saying something and without even hearing the words, Sand knew what he was saying._

_"Betrayer!" _

_He looked down at his own hands again and this time it was covered in a thick layer of sticky warm blood. But it was his blood - the omnipotence of the dream gave him this. There was so much blood; more blood than the time he was attacked by the Hellcat. Where was he bleeding from? Was he dying? _

_Oh. _

_A wicked silver sword (the Githyanki silver sword?) was protruding from his stomach. It had run him right through and yet there wasn't a drop of blood staining the blade. All the blood was on his hands. He rubbed his hands together, the red viscous liquid making it slippery. He found it more fascinating than frightening. He supposed he could pull the sword out of him but for some reason it didn't make sense to do so. He understood that the sword needed to be inside him. But why? He wasn't the Shard-Bearer._

_There was a flurry of activity in front of him again and he looked up, confused. They were now in the Sunken Flagon (why?). Casavir and Garius were gone. Instead, Torio, Kelia and Negendra were all standing before him and his face broke into a wide grin. She was alive! He tried to wave at her, tried to stand - all three of them were saying something, yelling to him but he couldn't understand..._

* * *

Torio followed along; she recognized the tower they were in, though she had only been there once, briefly; was this where Sand had spent his time in Luskan? He had a tray in his hands, and as he passed into a room where Garius stood waiting, she felt a wash of dismay as she realized what the object on the tray was.

Sand fell to his knees. The paladin, of all people, appeared next, and then blood saturated the wizard, a long, delicate looking sword protruding from his waist. Torio felt panic lance through her, tried to rush to his side, throw her arms around him, do something; but her role was merely observer, and she could only watch as Sand rubbed his hands together almost curiously, blood sticking between his palms and fingers.

No, no, no, no, no...she wished he would pull it out of him. It was just a dream, wasn't it? And yet the sight of the elegant silver sword driven through the body of her lover, even in a dream, made her heart seize with a merciless cold, and she felt a strange, odd sense of foreboding as she watched him.

A strange hiccup, a mental sigh, and then the scenery changed; they were in the Sunken Flagon and she stared at three versions of herself, two of them personas she had taken on, different women and yet all facets of her...they were shouting; an echo of her own thoughts as she realized the very obvious fate, the only one, that could await Sand at the end of this road of shadows he traveled with the Shard Bearer...

_Don't go. Stay…_

* * *

Sand woke up with a start, sweat covering his body, his breathing ragged and his heart pounding. He sat up in the bed, looking around wildly.

_Where was he?_

He looked down, besides him. Torio was there, staring at him with a strange expression. He sighed and rubbed his face. "Sorry, dear girl. Just a nightmare. Not used to sleeping as a human yet, I suppose."

_Just a nightmare._

Torio reached out and pulled him down against her; it was a strange feeling, knowing what he had been dreaming about and seeing his drawn, tight face when he had awoken. "A nightmare, dear?" She guided his head against her shoulder, pressing her lips against his forehead, feeling strangely protective; she curled a leg around him and hugged him to her, feeling the last traces of the desperate panic that had filled her while watching Sand dream tug at her.

Her heart felt heavy and cold as it beat against her chest, pressed evenly against his. She bent her head down and brushed her mouth against his eyelids, her arms holding him snugly. "Go back to sleep; you've got a bit of time yet and you don't look rested."

Sand nestled against her, pulling the covers up to his chin, feeling a bit like a child. Torio was holding him to her with a novel sort of tenderness. "I don't feel rested," he admitted. "But I'm sorry if I awoke you, dear girl." He closed his eyes again and fell into a dreamless, fitful sleep, reassured only by the warmth of the human next to him.

She lay awake for a long time, watching the shadows stretch across the ceiling as the sun advanced in the sky, hearing Sand breath against her body and trying to pretend for a moment that they were really some extravagant couple on a trip.

Her mind went to the poisoned comb in her cloak, the dagger attached to her garter. _You're not a woman who receives relaxing vacations, Torio._

She stroked Sand's short human hair absently as she lay there for an indeterminable amount of time; and when she heard the bells ring at a certain time, she shifted, tapping Sand's cheek.

"Wake up, 'husband.' It's time."

Sand opened his blue eyes. The sun was beginning to dip in the western skies. "So it begins. Truly begins." He sat up, stretching his arms forward, the amulet with the ariik gem tapping reassuringly against his chest. He leaned down and pressed his mouth against Torio. "We can do this, dear girl. We're the best and the brightest in both Neverwinter and Luskan; if there's a team that can do this, it's us." If only he could convince himself of that fact.

He slid out of the bed and over to the clothes trunk. He pulled out a richly woven, dark blue robe, embroidered with golden threads, a silk black undershirt and black trews. He tossed these onto the back of the chair and then rummaged through the bags of rings until he found a Ring of Clear Thought. He slipped this onto his finger, next to the ring Vale had given him for Torio's bracelet.

Torio had slipped out of bed and began rummaging through the trunk, finding multiple items of fine clothing sifting between her fingers... She pulled out a fine, deep blue gown; the sleeves were no more than mere formalities, gauzy, draping things that fell in three looped ropes of fabric from the bodice. She turned to spread it out on the bed, and caught Sand rubbing his chin ruefully.

He touched his chin, realizing he had about a 5 days growth of hair on his face. "Dear wife, I don't suppose you purchased a razor for me?" He glanced at his appearance in the mirror.

_Definitely scruffy, would likely give the ranger a run for his money in the unkempt facial hair department._

Sand realized he had never had to shave before. "Wonderful. I'm going to show up to this social looking with I've been mauled by dozens of tiny mice."

She laughed despite her growing nervousness as she realized Sand had never shaven in his life. "Come, sit, bodaes...I have just the thing." She moved to where her travel pack was thrown against the dresser, and rummaged through it until she found the razor and small clay jar of foaming cream she had bought in Port Llast.

She pulled a chair around by the sink that was next to the standing tub, and patted it invitingly, flicking open the razor. An eyebrow rose jauntily over one gleaming gray eye. "Have a seat, dear husband. I promise I won't hurt you."

Sand raised his eyebrows in reply, looking at the chair and then at Torio. She was standing confidently, holding a very sharp razor in her able hands, still naked. He was still naked as well. The whole affair was ... formidably risky.

The whole affair was tremendously erotic.

"All right, dear wife." He walked over, brushing by her nude body as he sat down. He tilted his face back and looked up at her and the mean glint of the metallic razor in the candlelight. "Be gentle, my love."

Torio nudged the chair back slightly with her knee as she stepped forward; it scraped roughly against the wooden floorboards, moving with protest underneath Sand's weight, its back coming to rest against the sink behind it. She placed the small jar on the edge, peeling off the wax sealing that kept the contents inside, and scooped the foam out with her fingers. She set the razor down for a moment, and began spreading the light, fluffy substance over his face, her fingers rubbing it across his skin with slow strokes. She pushed his head back, exposing his throat as she spread the foam down across the bristles growing in on his upper neck, feeling his pulse pushing against her fingers.

When Sand's face was evenly administered to, she picked up the smooth, pewter pitcher next to the sink basin and stopped the plug, pouring the water down into the sink. She rinsed off her hands, and then dipped the razor into the water before lifting it over his face.

For a moment she stared down at him, feeling a dangerous thrill of power run through her veins; she could feel the closeness of his body, the heat of it inches from the sensitive mound between her legs. The blade gleamed wickedly as the setting sunlight caught on its edge...All she had to do was bend her knees to drop her weight onto his lap..._All she had to do was flick her wrist..._

She felt a faint, protesting tug in her mind as the thought crossed it. The vows. Of course, she wouldn't really have done it, even without them. Not really...

She pushed her hair back over her shoulder with her free hand, and bent down, placing the razor at his throat. She watched him, eyes narrowed, her lips parted slightly as her breath sucked quickly into her lungs and out again; she drew the blade across his neck, its edge barely touching the skin, hardly even breaking the layer of foam that covered it...and then she angled it, flipping it in her hand, and began gently scraping it along his skin, shaving the bristles from his neck and face. "I would hold still, Tanith," she said almost cheerfully. "I wouldn't want to have an accident."

Sand kept his eyes trained on her, keeping his breathing as steady as possible. He tensed his whole body as she began moving the blade across his face, feeling the slight resistance of the edge of the razor along his skin. He was painfully aware of how his head was tilted back, how every time he swallowed his throat was totally exposed to this...Luskan. He felt himself begin to harden under the cool touch of the metal and the sight of Torio leaning over, tending masterfully to him and his breath quickened. "Yes, Nagendra - it would be quite...unfortunate to have an accident this late in the game..."

She smiled slyly, her eyes focused on her work as she scraped the blade over his skin. "It would look a little odd, I suppose, if you showed up to Asrar's home with a brand new breathing hole in your neck." Her voice was low, almost purring, as she positioned the blade delicately underneath his nose and flicked at the bristles above his lip. "Although, while odd, it would be a wholeheartedly Luskan thing to do."

She shaved the last of the stubble from his skin slowly, almost lovingly, and then dropped the blade into the sink, her reaching fingers grabbing a soft, clean towel. She rubbed the last traces of foam from his face, pressing her body forward and leaning against him. "See? You survived." Her voice trailed off with an obvious suggestion; _This time_...

Sand reached out and pulled her onto his lap, holding her close so she could feel his arousal. "Thank you, wife, I enjoy surviving every encounter with you. I appreciate your restraint in not succumbing to those wicked Luskan ways. What would our friends in Waterdeep think?" He stroked the bare skin of her back, staring up into her gray eyes. "Is there anything you need assistance with? If not, there are some items I'd like you to wear, for your own protection of course, dear girl."

Torio let out a long, low sigh, sinking against his lap; she felt his manhood hardened and engorged beneath her, and her body tightened almost instantaneously in response. "They would think that we are taking well to the city that has invited us into its fold, dear husband."

She ran her hands up the sides of his face, feeling the now-smooth surface of his cheeks. "I think I can manage to dress myself." _And arm myself, as well_. Her mouth flitted in a particularly wanton smile. "Unless you would like to help me with that, Tanith?" She shrugged her shoulders mildly. "As for the other items, I will bow to your superior arcane knowledge and wear what you deem necessary." She reluctantly stood from his lap, rubbing against him slightly more than was necessary.

Sand stood as well, doing his best to ignore his obviously hardened state. "Then I have just the item for you." He went back to the large sack of magical items he had collected from Vale, pulling out an orangey colored ring. "This is a Lantanese ring. It will help heal you if ever you are hurt and help with your feminine charms. Gods know, it may be what gets us the map."

He ran his hand over his face, admiring the good job she had done, before he began getting dressed. The silk undershirt felt incredibly luxurious against his skin and he had to admit to himself with a wry smile, there was a reason why Torio obviously liked silks. He finished dressing and then went over to one of the pieces of luggage. Opening the trunk, he pulled out a black velvet bag. Inside was hundreds of gems, pearls, diamonds, jewels worth thousands upon thousands of dollars. He hoped Nasher had given him enough for the auction. He tucked the bag inside the front of his robe and then threw on a heavy moleskin cloak over his shoulders. Sand sat back down at the table. "At your leisure, my dear."

Torio moved to where her dress was laid out; she glanced over as Sand finished dressing, and hid a smile as she turned back to her handiwork; there was something comforting and familiar about watching him dress, despite the oppressiveness of their mission; it was something she had seen him do often, in the closed quarters of their rooms (or the compartment of a carriage) and even as a human, Sand dressed in the same fashion, fastidious and carefully. She could almost predict his movements before he made them...

She stepped into her dress and began lacing the bodice together, feeling the fabric pull her breasts tight methodically as she tied the ribbon. She moved to the small dressing table, stopping to pull the comb Gend gave her from her traveling cloak. Bending in front of the mirror, she twisted her hair at the nape of her neck, rolling it elegantly and carefully sliding the poisoned comb into the roll; it held in place, and she straightened, examining herself for a moment; the woman's face that stared back at her was undeniably different from her own, and yet just like her Elven form, there were traces, hints, at her original features, hiding underneath the disguise...

On with the garter and the courtesan blade, and then it was simply a matter of sliding the small toe-knife into the slipper of her shoe before shodding her feet and smoothing out the skirt of her gown. She walked to Sand, turning in a circle. "Presentable, husband? I am ready whenever you are."

Sand stood and took her hand gently in his, kissing it gallantly while admiring her. "You look...beautiful. Asrar may give up the map simply for a kiss from you." He circled her appraisingly: the bodice was form fitting and the sleeves hinted at and revealed the smooth skin of her arms. When she moved, the slit of the skirt taunted him with the vision of her legs, showing enough skin well above her knee to almost be considered scandalous.

He loved it.

Sand kissed her swiftly and then went to where his weapons were waiting. He tucked the dagger in his boot, and picked up both the staff and the invitation to the auction. He exhaled loudly, the only noticeable sign of the nervousness now raging inside of him. "May the gods be with us tonight, dear girl."

Torio took his hand as she walked for the door; pausing for a moment, she turned, and kissed him full on the mouth, plying his lips apart with her tongue; she tasted wine, inhaling raggedly...the faded smell of washing soap and the metallic tang of dormant magic filled her senses, and her fingers unconsciously stroked against his chest as she kissed him, feeling the warmth of his body through the expensive fabric.

When she finally pulled back, she said with more confidence than she truly felt, "May anyone who is watching be with us; we shall need them all on our side."

She stepped back, and slipped her arm through his primly, smoothing her hair with the palm of her hand. "Let us begin this, Tanith Couleuvra."


	8. Chapter 8

**Volume 2, Part VIII: Mingling**

Sand opened the door and exited the room, locking it behind them. He quickly and quietly walked down the stairs, pausing occasionally to give Torio the opportunity to gather up her skirt and navigate the steps. The doorman opened the heavy wooden door, bowing slightly. "M'lord, lady."

And then they were out on the streets of Luskan. The sun had just begun to set as he led her northeast. Asrar's home was within walking distance of the Seven Sails Inn, near the middle of the Reach region of Luskan. The citizens of Luskan walked past them without paying them much attention, all hurrying home or hurrying out now that darkness was rapidly approaching. Merchants were closing up shop, drawing curtains shut and locking doors and the torches along the street were being lit one by one, small bursts of light and hope appearing in the dusk.

Orban Asrar's house was a large bricked building, with cracked marble stone steps leading up to red oak doors. Sand stopped Torio a moment, watching the people enter the house in twos and threes. Mostly human and nobody seemed to be particularly well armed. "Time for our grand entrance, my wife." He led her across the street and up the stairs, into the large house.

A guard immediately halted them as they crossed the threshold. "Invitation, please," he droned. Torio watched as Sand proffered the parchment, and the door guard glanced over it in dutiful boredom, noting their names and professions. He handed it back to Sand after a moment. "Follow me. Sergeant Hilskur! Take my post, I have distinguished guests to announce."

Another guard appeared as if from nowhere, and the guard led them through the entrance foyer, past small pockets of already chattering people, finely dressed and eyeing them curiously as they were swept passed. "The dinner party is open to many visitors, tonight," explained the guard as he led them down a long hallway leading to a pair of double doors. "After the dinner is over, Master Asrar will invite you and the few others selected to partake in the auction; not many are being afforded this opportunity, so I would suggest you police your manners while in my Master's house." The doors were pushed open by the guard's heavily-mailed hand, and he held the wide double doors open for them; the hall was brightly lit, tables set off to the side with places set for nearly a hundred people, and the wide, expansive floor in the center was filled with all manner of guests. A carpet stretched from the door towards the Head Table, which was standing in a place of honor on the center dais.

As they stepped through the doors, the guards called out, "Tanith Couleuvra, Merchant and Master Mage of Waterdeep, and his wife, Nagendra."

The discordant buzzing of the crowd paused for a second as the guests looked up at the doorway; it resumed as Sand and Torio made their way to the floor. Sand realized he was clutching Torio's arm rather hard and he forced himself to relax. He looked as casually as possible through the crowds. Most of the humans were congregated on the floor; he noticed the elves sitting at the various tables at the side. There were even a few Drow and tieflings here, sitting as far away from the crowds as possible.

A large figure standing near the Head Table drew Sand's attention and he realized it was an Ogre mage, standing surrounded by a small contingent of gray dwarves. A group of halflings and gnomes were huddled together at the edge of the floor.

The air of the room was thick, tangible, with magic. As Sand walked through the room, the magical energies were making his skin tingle and dance. There would be no way the magical aura from their polymorphed selves would be noticed in this arcane soup.

Sand whispered lowly, "Shall we find a seat, dear girl? I have no desire to mingle." But before Torio could answer, a jovial voice hailed them. "Greetings! Traveled all the way from Waterdeep! How was the journey?" A short, stocky red-faced man approached them. "My, you're one of the lucky ones in on this auction! I only got invited to the dinner but that's good enough for me. You don't turn down an invite to Asrar's if you want to know a good meal! Heh heh!"

Torio's eyes flicked imperceptibly to Sand's face before she smiled ingratiatingly towards the man. "You weren't invited to the auction, good sire? I can hardly believe that; you seem quite the courtly type, well experienced in fine dinners such as this." She leaned forward conspiratorially, lifting one delicate shoulder in a half-shrug and exposing a wide expanse of the uplifted tops of her breasts above her bodice. "This seems such a delightful house; do you know much about Master Asrar?"

Sand watched, amazed, as Torio jumped right into the game. By the gods, this girl was good. His eyes went back to her and were immediately drawn to the massive amount of bosom she was flashing to this portly stranger.

What would a good husband do? Cover her up? Scold her? Make a joke?

Sand started to speak but the stranger just plowed ahead in his conversation with Torio, blithely ignoring him. He was laughing amicably, his eyes obviously looking at her chest. "I've known old Orban for years, the bugger is always tinkering with this that or the other thing." He leaned forward as well, suspiciously too close to Torio than was needed. "I hear he's even starting to make contacts with Lantan to help with his inventions but don't let that get out. Lantan is still a sore spot with Luskan!" He winked at Torio. "First time he's had an auction like this though! What a big affair. Top secret stuff, won't even tell me about it. Says I can't afford what he's selling so it's safer that I don't know. Means it's going to be good, whatever he's got."

Sand interrupted, "Ah, I don't believe we've finished introductions. I am Tanith Couleuvra, and this here is my wife, Nagendra. You are?"

The man grinned at Sand. "Abelor, at your service. And I know she's your wife, else I wouldn't be flirting with her quite so much. Married women are easier to handle: most of them don't want another marriage, don't want children with you and don't want more in-laws!" He guffawed.

Torio's mind immediately and desperately tried to sort through the sudden outflow of information from the portly Abelor. Connections with Lantan? This Asrar was either much braver or dumber than they originally thought; or he felt so confident in his social position and power that he had no reason to fear the Hosttower's wrath...

"Oh come now, Tanith," She said placatingly, shooting a wink at Abelor. "I'm merely having a conversation with a new friend." She smiled at the portly man. "I'm afraid my husband and I will have to mingle...he's not as sociable as I am, I'm afraid." She glanced archly at Sand, before nodding back at Abelor. "But of course, I expect to talk to you later." She let only the slightest slip of suggestion leak into her voice, before nudging Sand onwards, keeping her pace slow and leisurely.

Sand gave a steady, sidelong glance as they moved away from Abelor. "Merely a conversation, Nagendra? His face was practically between your breasts. If that was a conversation, I should have them more often with you, Wife." His mouth gave a small amused twitch. A pretty Elven serving girl passed by them and offered them each a glass of sparkling white wine. "Master and his lady - wine from Calimport." Sand handed a glass to Torio before taking one for himself. Sand nodded his thanks before moving on.

They slipped in among the crowd of humans in the middle of the floor, Sand's ears alert for snippets of conversations, sipping the wine. The wine had a clear sweet taste to it. The guests were all dressed well, the men in formal shirts or robes, the women in long dresses. Sand noticed a tall imposing man in flowing red robes standing slightly to the left, his face covered in as many tattoo as to rival the warlock's. A Red Wizard - and most likely there for the auction. Sand carefully guided Torio away from him and back towards the more casual, less dangerous revelers. It appeared however that most of the people were adroitly avoiding the topic of the auction and focused on more benign topics...

_"...caught my daughter sneaking out with the boy from..."_

_"...the healer said my mother would be all right if she would only..."_

_"...best way to cook squab is with a honey marinade..."_

_"...the economy will crash if he doesn't adjust his tax practices..."_

Sand squeezed Torio's arm, giving her a questioning look. "Shall we join a conversation? You're the one that likes to mingle."

Torio swirled the wine in her mouth appreciatively; _well, if we're going to die at least I'll have tasted a decent vintage beforehand. _ She returned a few smiles sent their way, scanning the crowds; there were many people of large wealth and little value crowding the floors, although she could note the most likely candidates that were going to be invited to stay for the auction.

Her mouth twitched in amusement. "You could stand to learn the value of mingling, husband." She arched her head towards a small cluster of animatedly speaking men and women. "Shall we?"

Sand snorted. "I'm a wizard. By that virtue, I'm supposed to loathe mingling." But he followed her anyway into the crowd of people.

They walked to the small group, and Torio smiled as seven pairs of eyes looked over at them. "Pardon me...but..." she glanced around secretively and then lowered her voice, her eyes gleaming as she leaned in to their small huddle. "Are any of you invited to the auction later? I can hardly contain myself; just look at that Ogre mage!"

One of the men laughed. "Only Gweynn here is invited later, and she won't tell us a word about it, will you, love?"

One of the women, supposedly Gweynn, smiled; she had a faint aura of magic about her, but seemed dressed no differently than any of the other partygoers. She patted her hair demurely. "Orban and I go way back, you know; it's only fitting that I get invited tonight." She eyed Sand speculatively as Torio introduced both of them, her eyes openly appreciative.

Torio found her arm clutching Sand's a little tighter.

Another one of the men said lowly, glancing over his shoulder, "I hear Master Asrar's keeping the object up for auction in the upper levels of the house; most of the guards have been drawn to the staircases, have you noticed?"

"Levin you're just speculating again; you have no idea if whatever it is, is really here or not," Scolded another woman. "I swear, if you even so much as suggest we go peek at it..."

Levin laughed. "You're the one suggesting it, good woman, not I." He looked over at Sand and Torio. "From Waterdeep, are you? And I take it you've been invited to the auction, as well?"

He fought back a laugh when Torio subtly glared daggers at the woman, Gweynn, while maintaining an iron like grip on his arm. He nodded to the woman, now a competitor, in the auction, trying not to let himself blush at her openly hungry expression.

Sand smiled at Levin and the other woman. "I wouldn't advise trying to sneak up and have a look. If all the living guards are down here, it would not surprise me if he had other magical means of protecting his wares." He took a long sip of the wine. "We have been invited to the auction. Very fortunate of us. Now we'll see if we can be so fortunate as to win it." He raised his glass genially towards Gweynn.

"Hear hear!" said Levin jovially, before drinking from his glass. Torio took a sip from hers as well, narrowing her eyes over the rim of her glass towards the wizard woman who dimpled prettily in Sand's direction.

"I'm sure it will be a scintillating evening," Gweynn said pleasantly, her eyes fixated on Sand for a moment. They flicked to Torio's face, and for a moment, the woman's dark brown eyes seemed to bore into hers...

..she felt an imperceptible nudge against her thoughts, and immediately blocked them off. The woman was trying to trawl her...

Torio's voice was smooth and pleasant, but her eyes were flashing sharper than the edge of a blade. "It is impolite where I come from to attempt to touch a stranger's mind without their permission, my Lady." Inwardly, her heart was hammering with sudden anxiety. There was much more to this woman than first appearance warranted...

"Oh, my apologies," said Gweynn contritely, her eyes giving Torio a look that said she wasn't sorry at all. "It is almost a habit with me these days, I'm afraid; please, forgive my social faux pas."

"You don't have to forgive her, you know," Levin said to Torio, waggling an eyebrow at her suggestively. "I never have, and I'm still in her good graces." He winked towards Gweynn, and everyone laughed, diffusing the tense moment as if it had never happened.

Sand tensed as he heard Torio's keen voice castigate the other woman. He immediately guarded his thoughts carefully, squeezing Torio's hand warmly and reassuringly. He smiled graciously at Gweynn, "I am certain tonight will be an interesting and entertaining evening even if we do not win the auction. So from where do you hail?" Or as Sand refrained from asking - why do you want the map?

Torio felt her irritation settle somewhat as the conversation went to more neutral grounds. Sand squeezed her hand, and she exhaled long and low, and she took another drink from her glass, watching Gweynn carefully as the woman spoke. "Oh I'm a native, Master Couleuvra," she said coquettishly. "Luskan is my home, sea and sail." Before anyone could say another word, a loud, sibilant gong sounded, and a well dressed manservant appeared at the double doors. Heads turned almost in unison as he announced, "If everyone could please be seated, we will begin serving the main course shortly."

Levin smiled at the couple. "Come, join our table! We're over there!" He gestured vaguely towards the middle.

"Well, I'm certain you'll be better company than him." Sand tilted his head in the direction of the Ogre mage. "Better table manners too, I suspect." He followed the group and was slightly amused to see Abelor fall into step with them too.

"Mind if I join you folks? Always a pleasure meeting new people. Gweynn!" He gave the woman an enthusiastic pat on the back. "Orban loves you more than me; either that, or he thinks your money is better than mine!"

Gweynn gave him a small strained smile. "Abelor. Fancy seeing you here."

The group of six seated themselves at the table - Abelor to Torio's right, Gweynn to Sand's left and Levin and the other woman (whom Sand realized he had no idea what her name was and was now too embarrassed to ask) across from them.

The torch lights magically dimmed and the manservant announced, "Presenting your host for the evening, Master Orban Asrar."

Orban Asrar stepped through the doors, giving a curt nod to the crowd. "Friends! It is good to have you all here! I see some old faces and many new ones. May tonight be a night of good fortune for us all!" He sat at the Head Table, surrounded by other men and women of note. Sand took a moment to study him. He was a tall human, likely in his mid-40s, with dark brown hair that was starting to gray at the temples. His eyes were dark and intense, scanning the crowds. Asrar caught Sand's eyes and for a moment, the two men stared at each other but then Asrar raised his wine glass in Sand's direction, before his gaze fell on Torio.

Torio settled into her seat, smiling politely as Levin reached across the table a refilled her glass. "You'll love Orban's food, Nagendra," he exalted, shaking his head in admiration. "I swear the man has a salve-galley of chefs in his kitchen, working night and day."

Gweynn scoffed. "He served excellent dinners, Levin, but you've never been invited to High Master Corshin's festhall; incomparable, I tell you." She rested her chin on her hand slyly, glancing over at Sand. "If you're ever in Luskan again, Master Couleuvra...can I call you Tanith?...you should visit his hall. I would be delighted to take you." She added, almost as an afterthought, "You and your wife, of course."

His 'wife' tightened her grip on her wineglass momentarily, before smoothing down the elegant knot of her hair, saying placidly, "It sounds like a wonderful idea, my dear." She touched Sand's arm, lightly, almost absently, but she could see Gweynn's face harden at the possessive gesture, and it filled her with no small end of satisfaction. "We should take her up on it the next time we're in Luskan." Which will be never, gods willing. What had gotten in to her? They were on a dangerous, important mission and here she was, feeling pangs of jealousy shoot through her like poisoned needles...

She felt eyes on her...her skin crept in the familiar sensation of the thoroughly watched, and she glanced up, catching their host's gaze trained on her where she sat.

_"...I know from reliable sources that Asrar has an... affinity for blondes, and with your considerable talents from your time in Luskan, I know you can find a way to get closer to him than the auction practices normally allow for..."_

She could almost hear Gend's words in her head, and quickly looked away, watching as a serving man placed a plate in front of her filled with all manner of delectable food. She suddenly felt a chill cross her spine, and reached for her glass, taking a quick drink, her face otherwise smooth and immobile.

Sand felt like shrinking in his seat, feeling suddenly like a piece of fish between two possessive cats. He was beginning to get the feeling that it wasn't him they were fighting over, but merely the principle of the thing. Because, really, Torio - fighting over him? "Ah, of course. Please, everybody, call me Tanith. We're all trying to be friends here right? Let us drop the formalities." He picked up a fork and began eating. "And thank you for the invitation. It sounds like a lovely time. Good food, good company and meeting new people is always a wonderful opportunity to travel."

Abelor laughed heartily. "Well! I can't let Gweynn here upstage me." He turned to Torio. "I have a ship, the Lusty Luskan, I could take you out for a trip. Adventures on the high seas. Go see the Icepeak mountains?" He winked at Sand. "Unlike Gweynn, I won't even pretend to be interested in inviting your spouse." He began enthusiastically eating as well. "Or here's a deal - Gweynn, you take Tanith, I'll take Nagendra and we all go home happy?"

They were already closing in on them, however teasingly; she could feel Abelor's fingers inching forward across the table, trying to tap lightly on her wrist, and Gweynn was eyeing Sand as if he were tied naked on a silver platter, ready to be served as the next course in their dinner. Torio sighed inwardly. _Ah, Luskan_. She laughed, inching slightly closer to Sand's chair, her eyes glittering at Abelor as she tapped his hand once, lightly. "Ah, but how would I ever get home again, dear Abelor?" She winked at him coyly.

Abelor laughed. "Maybe once you've tasted my hospitality you won't want to go back home eh? Solves that problem!" He glanced deviously at Sand. "Besides, a powerful mage like your husband should be able to get you home if he really wants you home."

Sand stabbed a small leafy vegetable with his fork a lot harder than he intended to. "Ah Abelor, you - my friend - are such a joker. Of course I want her back - life would be a lot less interesting without her." He turned and gave Torio what he hoped was his most 'in-love' smile before kissing her on the cheek.

Torio felt her eyes half-close in pleasure as Sand's lips brushed against her cheek. Her gray eyes flicked to Abelor's face as she smiled smugly. "I'd get seasick anyway, my dear Abelor."

Gweynn curled her lip up at Abelor. "It's amazing that Orban even invites you to these affairs. You show as much class as an Uthgardt barbarian." She turned to Sand, purring. "Really, Tanith, I'm just interested in getting to know another mage. And his wife, of course. Tell me, Nagendra, how did you meet your husband?"

Torio felt her heart skip a beat for a moment. Technically they hadn't rehearsed this part...But what better cover story than the truth? "We met over a dispute, actually," she said, twirling a few noodles of some unidentifiable pasta around on her fork. "We were both on opposite sides; he had the most aggravating way of twisting words around. I absolutely abhorred him." She didn't realize the affectionate tone that had leaked in her voice as she reached for her wineglass and took a sip. "His side won...pure luck, of course, you all understand." Levin was grinning at her, Abelor laughed; Gweynn merely snorted lightly. "But we saw more of each other after that...I suppose we couldn't stop sniping at each other." She glanced at Sand from the corner of her eye, giving him a flirtatious wink. "Or maybe he just couldn't stay away."

Sand chuckled. "And I still win all our arguments, if you must know. And of course I couldn't stay away. Somebody has to keep an eye on you. I swear, this girl would get away with murder if it wasn't for me." He smiled at Torio, returning her wink. "And I twisted my words no more than you did, dear girl." Sand shook his head lightly. "Abelor, you know what? If you think you can handle her, you are welcome to have her and try."

Abelor laughed and held up his hands. "Whoa whoa now Tanith. Now you're making me worried. Is she a hellion of a wife? Is she a real succubus in bed?"

Sand nearly choked on the wine he was drinking. Levin and the woman besides him were laughing and Gweynn was glowering. He sputtered a moment, trying to regain his composure. "I...ah... don't kiss and tell."

Torio actually felt her cheeks flush, and mentally cursed her paler, polymorphed skin. "Cold feet, Abelor?" She smiled, a seductive curl to her lips as she arched her head at Sand. "No matter; there are some things that only a powerful mage with an extensive...spellbook... can handle."

The woman at Levin's side nearly guffawed. "Is that why you've taken such an interest in magic, Levin?" Levin pulled at his collar uncomfortably as Gweynn smiled, her eyes narrowed. "You've got quite the tongue on you, Nagendra," she said silkily, tugging on one of her curls languidly. "It's a pity you don't seem to have any magical talent, yourself; none that I can sense on you, anyway. You might find quite a place for yourself in Luskan." She smiled ingratiatingly at Sand. "But perhaps you could follow your husband here, I suppose, if he decided to come make his presence here more permanent."

Abelor slapped his hand on the table. "Oh! Heh heh!. Tanith, she is quite the woman. You'll have to tell me all about these...spells, good Nagendra."

Levin grinned at his partner. "Well I was always taught the arcane arts were to be used wisely and prudently." He nodded at Sand. "But I see your methods have brought you great success."

Sand finished chewing and swallowing a piece of rather tasty meat before replying to Gweynn, "The possibility of coming to Luskan on a more permanent basis has not escaped Nagendra and me. There remains of course, things to consider. I am quite comfortable currently in Waterdeep. Coming to Luskan would mean essentially restarting for us."

Gweynn had a strange light in her eyes. "Ah of course. Unless...you happen to win the auction tonight, is that correct?"

Sand held his gaze steady. "Certainly such an item would not...hurt... my prospects here." Gweynn nodded, seemingly satisfied that she had figured out why he was here. "Well then, Tanith - I suppose if you win, I should look forward to having you - and your wife - over for tea."

The waiter at their table, a human male, began clearing the dishes. "The dessert tonight is a delightful truffle cake, made with the finest creams from the herds of Longsaddle. We also have a sweet dessert wine from Baldur's Gate."

Torio leaned easily back in her chair, letting the waiter take her plate. His eyes flicked to her face momentarily before he was gone again, and then a smaller plate with a delectable, fluffy mound of cake was placed in front of her, along with a small flute glass filled with a pale pink wine. The talk seemed to filter down to aimless comments as delicate dessert forks impaled the cakes set in front of them; Abelor and Levin were going back and forth over the possibilities of sailing out to sea within the next week on an impromptu pleasure tour, and Levin's woman was gesturing wildly to one of the waiters, pointing to her empty wineglass. She absently chased a piece of cake around her plate, wanting desperately to touch Sand's mind with her own; and yet with Gweynn sitting on the other side of him she didn't dare open her thoughts up...

There was a clinking of a dining utensil against a glass, and all of the talk quieted down as a figure stood up. "I would like to propose a toast! To our fine host, Orban Asrar, and his gracious, never ending hospitality!" Torio dropped her fork and lifted her glass, echoing the toast as the others around her took up the cry.

Sand raised his glass in Asrar's direction and then drained his glass of the sweet nectar. The man stood from the table, bowing and nodding. He smiled at the crowd, but the mirth never reached his eyes. Sand swore he saw the man's dark eyes rest a moment upon him and Torio. _Just your imagination..._

Conversation quietly resumed but as the time for the auction approached, the light banter was slowly fading. Slowly, the guests not involved in the auction stood, making their way over to the Head Table to say their farewells.

Levin and his woman stood. "Best of luck, to the both of you. Tanith, Nagendra - safe travels back to Waterdeep. If you do return to Luskan, please, look us up. It has been a pleasure. Gweynn - we will be seeing you soon I am certain."

Abelor took this as his cue to leave as well. "Ah Tanith, sly old dog - you have a good woman. Keep an eye and your hands on her at all time - though I'm sure that's not a problem - else somebody might steal her away! Nagendra!" He kissed her on both cheeks. "My ship is always available to you! Just leave the husband at home!" He left their table.

Torio laughed, brushing her lips genially against Abelor's cheek. "Keep your ship in good sailing condition, then," she said. "We shall see!" She smiled at Levin and his woman as they left, and gave a cool, polite nod towards Gweynn. _I suppose we'll never be best friends._

Gweynn stood as well. "The auction will be commencing soon. Tanith - happy bidding."

Torio smirked slightly as she watched the wizardess move away from their table. _Pity, that._ "Hands and eyes on me at all time, is it?" She discreetly reached across their laps underneath the table and touched his hand lightly, her nerves shredding just barely at the thought of the auction finally commencing. She bent in to his ear, muttering quietly, "Best of luck to us indeed, husband."


	9. Chapter 9

**Volume 2, Part IX: You Can Keep Her Heart**

The servants began moving large comfortable chairs into the centre of the room, placing small tables with candles and a numbered placard in front of them. The chairs were arranged in small clusters in front of the head table. The waiter that had served them at dinner approached Sand and Torio. "Master, my lady - you are to be seated at table three." He led them to the high backed cushioned chairs, and placed an ink well, a quill and some parchment on the table. "The rules of the auction will be explained to everybody."

To the left of them was a group of humans and a group of elves, speaking in hushed tones. To the right, two other groups of humans and then the table of gnomes. The Red Wizard was sitting alone at the 7th table. The Ogre mage was to the right of him. A small contingent of Drow females were at the 9th station and Sand could see Gweynn sitting alone at the 10th chair. The 11th and 12th tables had a pair of halflings and some dwarves. Asrar himself sat at the Head Table, staring at each one of them in turn.

The whole atmosphere was slightly sinister; as if to make the evening even more foreboding, half the torches of the room were put out. A man stood before them when everybody was gathered and silent.

"Welcome to the auction for the Scales of the Sphinx. The rules are simple. Abide by them or be removed from the bidding. The bids are private and Master Asrar may accept or reject any bids at anytime for any reason. He also may ask you to leave at anytime. Master Asrar may also send you back a counteroffer, an opportunity to negotiate. Additionally, you may negotiate with all the other bidders in the room at any point, to try and...persuade them...to leave."

The man paused here for effect, letting his words sink in before continuing. "No magic or enchantments will be allowed to be used to convince Master Asrar to take your bid. To make a bid, simply write your offer on a piece of parchment, fold it, and give it to the runner assigned to your table. You may not communicate with anybody outside of your table except through the runner. If you win the auction, payment is immediate. If you fail to comply with the agreed payment, you will be handed over for low justice to the Luskan authorities and the next best bid will be accepted. If there are no further questions...we shall begin."

Sand pulled a piece of parchment to him, glancing at the other groups. Everybody was huddled over their tables, whispering furiously. Their runner was an unfamiliar woman. The air was heavy and oppressive and Sand realized that everybody, except for them, wanted this map for heinous or diabolical reasons.

He dipped the quill inside the ink and looked at Torio. "Too high and we risk running the price up too early and running out of money in the long run; too low and we risk Asrar taking somebody else's bid. Suggestions, dear girl."

Torio bent her head close to his, thinking furiously. "He knows these first offers are merely going to test the water," she said quietly, glancing at their host as he sat patiently at the Head Table. "We'll need something to catch his attention now; everyone here will obviously have money, but the menagerie is exotic enough that I wouldn't be surprised if our opponents have more to offer than mere money." She tapped the paper in front of them thoughtfully. "What artifacts do you have? Wands? Items? Nothing too powerful, mind, but something to show we have more to offer than simple monetary payment."

"Smart girl." Sand clucked his tongue approvingly. "I took every magical item that...uh...you know who...offered us for the journey. None of them are here however but they are at the Seven Sails. I doubt all our 'friends' here have all their items of payment with them either. So...20,000 gold pieces worth of gems, jewels and pearls and...a dozen rare magical scrolls?"

He quickly wrote out the offer on the parchment and then folded it, handing it to the runner. He glanced down the row of tables. The table of elves were still conversing while the Ogre mage had already sent in his offer. Looking back at Torio, he kissed his quietly on the mouth. "For good luck, wife."

She nodded as their runner took the offer. "A good offer," she said softly. "Pray that we get a chance to make more of them." Torio turned to look at Sand, only to feel his mouth press against hers, briefly. Her eyes fell shut almost out of habit, and then when she opened them again he was leaning casually back against his seat. She didn't reply, merely let her hand rest against his knee as she leaned forward, her chin on her hand. Asrar was eyeing the written offer from the Ogre Mage; his face betrayed no expression as he set down the note, and scribbled on an answering piece of parchment. His runner, a smaller man with skin so dark it was almost pure ebony black, took the proffered counter offer and hurried to the Ogre Mage's table. Their runner handed their offer to him next. Again, his face remained impassive as he read it; his eyes flicked to their table where they lounged almost carelessly, waiting. He picked up the feather quill and began writing a response as his own runner was returning to his table, and Torio let out brief sigh of relief; well, at least they weren't being immediately tossed out on their ear.

Sand opened the parchment and showed it to Torio. The note simply said: _More._He picked up a fresh piece of parchment. "40,000 gold pieces, a dozen rare scrolls and half a dozen protective rings or amulets?" The other tables were now sending up their responses and Asrar was responding quickly and efficiently. Sand noticed the group of Drow sending their runner to the dwarves. _Ah - the 'persuasion' begins._

She nodded. "He knows we have it to deliver, at least; offer it." She watched as Sand scrawled it out onto the parchment, and handed it to their runner, who sprinted up towards the Head Table...just as a pale-haired boy, looking barely over 12 or 13, came to the edge of their table and handed them a piece of parchment. Torio took it with ginger fingers and unfolded the note..."50,000 gold pieces, to walk out right now." She looked up, catching one of the groups of humans watching them expectantly. "We're going to run into a problem soon," she whispered in his ear. "Obviously we cannot take offers from the others; and yet if we get a rather extravagant offer that would be feasible for us to take it might look suspicious on us."

Sand narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "We'll deal with that problem, I suppose, when we come to it. Though - I do not know if anybody here has quite enough money to buy us and Asrar at the same time." Sand wrote simply on the parchment, 'No' and then handed it back to the young boy. There was a flurry of activity besides them and suddenly the group of gnomes stood, bowing at Asrar politely while the runner from the other group of humans was handing them a large sack and an envelope. _1 out; 10 left to outbid._

Their own runner was back and Sand hurriedly opened the parchment, his eyes flicking up to Asrar. The man was occupied with another offer and not looking in their direction. _Better. More._

Sand slipped Torio a piece of clean parchment. "You try. Maybe you'll have better luck."

Torio stared down at the parchment for a moment. Her quill sped across the parchment: _50,000 gold pieces. a dozen rare scrolls, ten protective magical artifacts...a mastercrafted nightshade neurotoxin, as well as the knowledge to produce more_. "Look at that," she said simply, pushing what she had written over to where Sand could see it. "It is rare enough knowledge that it might tempt him," she whispered. "Anything else you can think of to add?"

Sand raised his eyebrows at Torio. "Impressive, dear girl. That may intrigue him just enough. Or frighten him. The fact that you know this frightens me." He kissed her again and as he looked up, noticed that Asrar was watching them coolly.

He watched her fold the parchment and gave it to their runner. While waiting for the reply, Sand watched the activity around them. The others appeared more interested in negotiating with each other. The elves had sent their runner over to the Red Wizard. A girl with cropped hair approached them and handed them a note. "From table 10." Sand looked up and saw Gweynn staring at him intently. He opened the note. "50,000 gold pieces, and access to the Hosttower's archives, libraries and artifact study rooms. And I leave your wife alone."

Sand clenched his jaw tight. "Would you like to respond, dear girl?"

Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly as she read the note. "Amateur," she said easily. "With pleasure." She wrote her response quickly and succinctly. _No. And by all means, do not leave the wife alone._ She glanced up; Gweynn was watching her write.

"Magic or no," she whispered to Sand as she folded the note crisply, "Everybody bleeds." She smiled as their runner returned with Asrar's reply. "Here, love, take that to table 10." She watched the woman turn and leave again; the table of humans was emptying rapidly as they stood and bowed briefly to Asrar's table, before moving to the Ogre mage; they each collected a large pouch from his men, and disappeared from the room. She slid the note from Asrar over to Sand. "Care for the honors, husband?"

Sand smiled at her ruthlessness. "Well said, well played." Gweynn's face was a frigid mask of cold as she read the note. Sand reached over and squeezed Torio's knees. She was devastatingly beautiful when she was feeling murderous. He opened the note from Asrar just as the table of elves stood, bowed and went over to the Red Wizard to collect their buy-off.

_More gold. Your staff. What else does your wife know?_

Sand raised an eyebrow. "My - that is interesting. We have his interest now. He's actually making a counteroffer. I have no problems parting with this staff...and just what else do you know, my love?" He handed her the parchment.

She shifted her leg slightly, feeling the slit in her skirt slid apart, letting Sand's fingers press against her bare skin; his human fingers were hotter than a brand. Her heart was pumping audibly as she stared at the parchment...

She couldn't reveal too much...she was a merchant's wife, after all. She wrote, carefully,_Hemlock Truth Serum; its properties, dosages, ingredients, methods of application_. Her fingers twitched slightly as she handed him the quill in order to add the money, artifacts, and of course, his staff to the bid. She watched him write, glancing up at the Head Table...strangely, all of the runners were heading to Asrar this round; no offers were being made between the bidders. "Everyone's settling in now," she said quietly. "These are the ones who truly want this map."

"Yes. The game just got more difficult." Asrar took his time in replying to each runner. The table of Drow received their response and immediately sent a runner to the table of dwarves. Suddenly there was belligerent shouting from the dwarves...

"...no good Drow, I oughtta plant my axe..."

Asrar merely flicked his wrist and suddenly a contingent of guards appeared and hauled the dwarves from their chairs and dragged them outside. Sand gave Torio a look. "One less competitor; a pity they didn't take any of the Drow's money with them..."

The runner was back at the table. Sand was hoping desperately that upping the money to 60,000 gold pieces was enough. He opened the note.

_More gold. Do you love your wife?_

Torio watched the dwarves be expelled from the auction with some amusement. "If only they all had such tempers," she whispered, and then looked over Sand's arm to the note as he opened it. Her fingers gripped his arm spastically for a brief moment; she kept her face passive, turning her head as if she were nuzzling his neck lovingly. Her stomach twisted with a dizzying sickness as she whispered, "That was quick." She took the quill in her own fingers and pressed it into Sand's hand. "80,000 gold," she whispered fiercely. "And..." She moved Sand's fingers in a squiggled parody of his writing; _Why do you ask?_ "No definitive answers, yet," she murmured; she could feel the blood draining steadily from her face, but pressed her mouth in a firm line; a glance to the center of the room showed one of the remaining humans throwing down Asrar's counter offer in disgust and turn, storming out of the room, his fellow humans practically sprinting after him.

Sand silently nodded and finished writing, giving the parchment to the runner. The tension in the room was palpable. Asrar was bent over, writing his reply. The Red Wizard still looked completely unruffled. Gweynn had stopped looked at them completely and appeared to be trying to buy off the halflings beside her.

Their runner returned with Asrar's reply. Sand looked up and saw the man staring steadily at him. He opened the parchment, still staring into those dark, conniving eyes and finally looked down at the words written.

_More gold. _

_To know what she's worth to you._

_Do you love her?_

Sand glanced at Torio. "We still have enough to raise our monetary bid. But - " He was momentarily interrupted by the halflings who stood, bowed, and collected their payment from Gweynn. He looked back at Torio. "How do you want me to answer his question?"

Torio drummed her fingers against the table. "Yes," she said after a moment. "Write yes. If he thinks I'm worthless to you then he'll lose interest." She glanced up, watching as the Ogre Mage sent an offer to Gwyenn; the Red Wizard was watching them shrewdly...he began writing on a parchment in front of him. "100,000 gold, as well," she said quietly. The drow were glaring across the room at the humans; Asrar's finger lifted almost imperceptibly, and the guards walked forward, waiting, ready, feeling the tension rise between the two groups. She touched his hand lightly with hers, pressing her lips to his cheek breifly. "Write it."

Sand held the quill above the parchment, hesitating. "I want to see if our 'friend' at Table 10 accepts the offer." He watched Gweynn read the Ogre Mage's parchment and scribble something in return. The Ogre Mage read her reply and then stood, bowing to Asrar and then moving over to Gweynn, collecting his money. Sand looked shrewdly at Torio. "She can't have that much money left. She just bought out the halflings and now the Ogre Mage. She's no longer a threat."

Torio nodded. "Astute observation. Let's hope she has nothing left to fall back on." She watched Gweynn pause in her writing, staring down at her parchment and frowning...

Sand carefully wrote:_100,000. Yes._

He sent his runner back up at the same time as the Red Wizard's, but Sand was pleased to see that Asrar opened his first and replied to it without even looking at the Red Wizard's offer.

Sand tore the parchment open.

_How much do you love her?_

_Convince me that you love her._

The humans were scribbling furiously, and then their runner was striding across the floor, holding out the parchment to the Drow..."Iblith!" The cry flew from the table, and then shapes were bounding across the floor at each other. Guards seemed to pour from every corner and throw themselves into the mass; for a moment action ceased as the remaining bidders watched the bustle move towards the main doors and disappear outside, the fight successfully ejected from the auction.

"Two more down," said Torio quietly. She looked over at the note in Sand's hand. Convince him? What did that mean? "He's not asking for money anymore, at least," She said quietly. "We seem to have met his limit on gold. But this...What game is he playing?"

"A Luskan one, dear girl. An emotional one." He looked up at Asrar again, who was staring at them with a small smile on his lips. Sand looked back down at the blank parchment and began writing.

_There is nothing in the world I would not do for this woman. She makes me laugh me, she makes me think, she makes me a better man and she makes me want to be a better man. I love everything about her - her passion, her stubbornness, her intelligence, her drive and her ambition. When I first met her, I could never have imagined she would one day be sitting besides me as my wife. Now I cannot imagine a life - even a day - without her. I love her with every fibre of my being._

His heart was thudding strangely loudly in his chest and he had to lay his hands on the table to keep them from shaking. "Well, dear girl?"

Torio slid her hand over his; she was very painfully unable to meet his eyes. "It will do," she said quietly. She folded it herself, her fingers trembling so hard the crease was crooked by the time she was done. She held it out to their runner, and the woman was off, striding towards Asrar's table. Her hand was still on Sand's; she watched the flickering candle at their table, her breathing tight and constricted in her throat. They were words, she knew, that needed to be said to convince Asrar, to get them to the map.

The part of her not currently embroiled in a nerve-wracking, knife's-edge auction was very quietly and very desperately wishing they were true. _You don't have time for that now, Torio._ Maybe she never would. Their runner was back; she hadn't even looked up to see Asrar write his reply. She handed them the note.

Sand's hands were trembling so hard he could barely open the parchment. He hoped his words had been convincing enough. He exhaled sharply, realizing that he had been holding his breath. This was more nerve-wracking than the Trial.

_Your life wasn't in danger then..._

He lay the parchment flat on the table.

_You make no mention of her body._

_The deal: You can keep her heart and her mind and her soul_

_I want her body._

_One night._

_Plus the 100,000 and all the other offers._

_Do you accept?_

Torio's mouth felt dry. It was exactly what they needed, what Gend said would get her close to Asrar. Close enough to kill him. But would they have time to prepare?

_...If you win the auction, payment is immediate... _

Asrar was watching them, a strange light in his otherwise cold face. She leaned in close to Sand. "Accept it," she hissed. She allowed her mind a brief touch on his, glancing furtively at Gweynn to ensure the woman wasn't paying attention to them. _It will get me close to him, my dear, and that is what we ultimately need; unless you possibly have a better idea? _ Her last thought was somewhat desperate; she found herself suddenly and completely averse to using a tactic she had used quite often in the past without a second thought.

Her hand was still on his, her fingers gripping him firmly; she reached for the quill with her free hand and pressed it into his, bending close and brushing her lips against his ear. "Accept it, my love," she whispered, her heart twisting in her chest.

_Just words, Torio. Nagendra's words._

It was perfect, utterly perfect. All the pieces of their plan falling immaculately into place.

Except for one large glaring thing, a black blemish on an otherwise flawlessly executed mission - the nauseating turmoil that was now curling in his stomach. Sand felt sick, a bitter bile sitting on the back of his throat. He suddenly felt as though he had let Torio down; he had no better idea for getting the map or killing Asrar.

With shaking hands, and Torio's fingers still on his, he wrote shakily, _Yes._

It was done.

The runner took the folded parchment from Sand and Torio and sprinted up to Asrar. The man unfolded it, almost too casually, and then stood, announcing "The auction is now over."

Gweynn and the Red Wizard both simultaneously turned to the couple sitting at table 3, glaring at them, but having no other choice they stood, bowed stiffly at Asrar and exited the room.

A dark silence fell on the room. Asrar studied Nagendra a long moment, her blonde hair swept up elegantly off her face, pressed up against her husband, Tanith. Her husband was simply sitting there, pale, staring into the flickering candle on their table. He smiled coldly. A high price indeed for the map.

He cleared his throat. "Congratulations. Come, follow me to more private chambers where we can solidify the terms of payments and perhaps share some celebratory wine." His voice left no room for further negotiation and he left the room by a side door, not waiting to see if they would follow. He knew they would.

Torio's heart thudded slowly and heavily as she stood, calmly flattening her skirt down her legs with her palm as she had done many times before. Sand stood woodenly next to her, and as they moved to follow their "host" she discreetly took his hand and turned, kissing him briefly on the mouth. _Keep your wits...we still have tricky waters to navigate, dear wizard. _

They walked silently into an adjoining room; a fire was already crackling with disheartening cheerfulness in the hearth, and Asrar had his back to them, pouring wine into three fluted glasses. The room seemed stiflingly warm, and yet Sand's hand felt cold in hers. Asrar approached them and handed them each a glass. "To new...friends," he said casually, and tilted his glass back. Torio briefly touched hers to her lips, her throat tightened too much to even think of swallowing the sweet nectar.

Sand drank the wine as if in a daze. The whole situation was surreal; he won the auction but it was like he had lost. "To..." his voice caught a moment, "To new friends."

Orban Asrar put his glass down on a nearby table. "Let us deal with some business first, before we move onto pleasure." His dark eyes caught Torio's light one as he said this. "Do you have all the payment with you? If not, I will have somebody escort you, Tanith, back to where you are staying to collect the rest of the goods."

Sand reached inside his robe and tossed the velvet gem bag on the table. "At least 100,000 worth of jewels, gems, pearls." He lay the Staff on the table as well. "Staff of Curing, brand new, all charges still there. The other magical items are at the Inn."

Orban picked up the velvet bag and examined the contents. "I will return to you whatever is in excess of 100,000..." He snapped his fingers and a servant that had been leaning quietly against the wall stepped forward. "Give this to the gemcutter. Tell him to pull out 100,000 worth of whatever he needs and return it here when he is done." He looked expectantly at Sand. "Final item of payment?"

Sand's arms felt as though they were made of lead as he offered Torio's hand to the man before him. Orban took it gently, kissing the back of her hand and pulling her to his side. "Do not fear. I will treat her well and I won't hurt her. But if she becomes heavy with my child - well, that is not my problem. I leave that up to you both to deal with and prevent." He stared hard at Sand. "Very well. The map." He walked over to a painting hanging on the wall, pushing it aside. Inside was a small cubby hole with a small chest. There was a click as he unlocked it and then he returned, holding before him a shining golden piece of hide.

"I will give your wife the words to activate this when I have finished...collecting from her. You may return in the morning with the scrolls and other items. If there is nothing else, I would like to retire with my payment." His fingers were stroking Torio's bare forearms lightly, his hand clutching her possessively.

Torio's skin prickled in objection as Asrar's fingers began stroking her arm, but she merely smoothed her hair down with her free hand. At a time like this, she would be tempted to ask for a demonstration of the map's abilities; she didn't trust the man an inch if it were a mile, but at the same time, the activated map could reveal the true identities of the spies standing directly in front of Asrar...

She caught Sand's eyes; he had a dead, flat look to them that made her insides sink heavily in her body. She felt the comb burning a brand against the back of her head; Asrar was right there, they could be done with this and running as they spoke...but the guards were watching them from the darkened corners of the room, and she had no clue where to begin deactivating or destroying the map.

Her mind touched Sand's, briefly; _Be careful if they escort you...I do not trust his men._ Her mind clung to his almost desperately for a moment. _I will be fine._

"Nothing else," she said briskly. "Honor your side of the bargain, Master Asrar, and we shall...we shall honor ours."

Sand nodded at Torio and Asrar. He was suddenly aware of the taller, distinguished man now holding his 'wife' and he had a moment of unreasonable, rash jealousy. What if Torio decided she rather liked being with him?

_Torio...I...Be careful, dear girl._

He turned abruptly on his heels and left, the image of Torio and Asrar burning in his mind.


	10. Chapter 10

_**This story is rated M for graphic scenes of sexuality, nudity and reluctance. **_

_**Please use extreme reader discretion with this chapter!!!!!!!!!!**_

**Volume 2, Part X: A Wonderful Husband**

Torio watched Sand leave with the look of the last man on a sinking ship, watching their lifeboat drift emptily away from them on the sea. _Well. Time to get this over with._ Asrar led her to a side door, pushing it open; the bedroom spilled out before them, luxurious and opulent. His hand felt searingly hot on her arm as he pulled her behind him, the door shutting after their passing with a _slam!_ of finality.

Orban Asrar's room was richly decorated. A large bed sat imposingly in the middle of the room. The walls were decorated with original paintings from artists around Faerun, possibly some from as far as Kara-Tur. Another fireplace was here, with a furred rug made by some exotic, unidentifiable creature. Orban opened a bottle of champagne and poured a glass for Torio.

"Tell me - do you really believe your husband loves you?" He sat on the rug in front of the fire and pulled Torio to him, stroking the back of her neck. He nuzzled her cheek. "If he loved you, do you think he would have given you up for a map?"

Torio stared at the glass in her hands, her body still and motionless as she felt his hand slide across the back of her neck. "Apparently you seemed to feel the price you called for and the map are of equal value," She said steadily; she took a sip of the sparkling wine, trying to coat her parched throat. "What matter is it, then, to you, of the feelings between my husband and I? You should be satisfied, Master Asrar." Her voice was warm, even, neutral; she looked steadily away from him, her heart pounding. Why was he stalling?

His question had latched on to her mind; she had no idea what Sand felt for her, only that their turbulent relationship had ground into unfamiliar territory seemingly for both of them. It was hard to navigate; she recalled the way the saltine liquid had spilled from her eyes as they had made love in the carriage, his voice ragged and breathless, his body..._Mine, mine, mine, mine..._Her mouth twitched imperceptibly, doubt niggling at her. _This isn't what your mission is about, Torio...stay focused..._

Asrar laughed. "It matters because how you feel for each other determines the value of the map, my pet." He pulled her close for a rough, bruising kiss. "The map would not be worth anything if your husband had only been willing to give up a beggar or a serving girl. But no..." the man breathed out. "He gave up his lovely wife." His fingers began toying with the shoulder of her dress, pulling them down slightly. "Tell me, what does your husband call you when he is being affectionate?"

Torio squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth aching smartingly as he pulled back from the kiss to speak. His eyes were dark and piercing, hooded slightly as his fingers plucked at the sleeves of her gown, inching the fabric downwards. She forced tensing body to relax, tried wildly to suppress the creeping chill crawling up her spine. _Tell him something, anything. _"Pet names, endearments..." She saw his gaze narrow momentarily, and her pulse raced; would he hurt her if he thought she was lying? How could she tell him the truth? Sand slipped into broken, ragged Elvish when they were together; a human woman with a pet name of Helkaer would be beyond suspicious. "He...calls me 'Icy One'...when we first met, we rather hated each other." She lifted her chin haughtily, her eyes harder than steel. "Now he uses it…affectionately."

"How...interesting." Asrar began kissing her neck, sliding his hand up her bare leg, flicking the skirt aside. "Truly, it appears that the two of you have had an interesting relationship. I love a complex woman. It was your knowledge of the neurotoxin that attracted my attention. Well read, my pet, or do you and your husband run with the wrong crowd?" His fingers greedily sunk into the flesh of her backside as his mouth sucked on the skin of her shoulders.

Torio felt a wash of illogical dismay as she felt his mouth close around her shoulder, pulling at the skin painfully..._He was going to leave a mark_...She grit her teeth, his hand pulling her against him. "There is hardly a book in the realms I have not touched," She said simply. "And being without magical ability leaves a woman to find other ways of...protecting herself." _And those she cares about._ She recalled the lifeless assassin's eyes as the last light fled from them.

His hand was gripping her flesh so hard she stifled a pained gasp, clenching her lips together resolutely. The be-knifed garter on her other leg seemed to itch insistently, and she felt a sudden wash of panic at what his reaction might be when he found her armed.

Asrar pushed her down onto the rug. "What, your husband does not do an adequate job of protecting you, my lovely pet?" He gave a sharp tug on her bodice, pulling the fabric down over her breasts. "No..." He paused, staring at her chest. "No I suppose he doesn't." He grabbed her breasts with the entirety of his palms, pressing down and twisting the nipples. "What a tasty morsel you are. Come now, show a little enthusiasm. This should be fun." The glint in his eyes indicated that he expected a positive response to his touch, whether she felt it or not.

She sucked in a breath sharply, her nipples hardening between his fingers, her body responding whether she willed it to or no. She stared up at him, her mouth drawn in a fierce line, eyes narrowed slightly; she felt the familiar rush of blood beneath her skin as her body anticipated what was to come, but her mind was rebelling mercilessly.

A soft, sibilant voice at the back of her thoughts whispered, _This was so much easier in the past, wasn't it girl? Without the emotional attachments, pulling at you, tugging; you used to even enjoy it...No!_

"You bartered for my body, Master Asrar," she said throatily; her voice had dropped to a rough, husky whisper despite herself. "Not my enthusiasm."

Asrar narrowed his eyes at her, cruelly. "Then your body I shall have and I shall see that you enjoy it enthusiastically, whether you want to or not." He flipped her over on her front, his fingers yanking at the ribbons and laces holding her dress together, while his mouth kissed the back of her neck wetly. He pulled the dress from her body, the fabric stretching and ripping in some areas. Asrar reached up and yanked the ornate hair comb from her hair, tossing it onto the floor next to the abandoned dress. He tousled her hair. "You have beautiful hair, my pet." His eyes flicked downwards and then he stopped a moment. "My...what an...ornate dagger." He pulled it from the sheath and held it up in the firelight. "Planning on using this on me, Nagendra? It is a lovely blade." Asrar flipped her over again like a limp doll so that she was lying across his lap, on her back. He pressed the cold steel between her breasts. "How does that feel?"

Torio swallowed hard, her heart pounding against her ribs...and against the blade between her breasts. She took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the shock of air on her very suddenly exposed skin and the icy chill of metal so close to her heart. "Cold," She said steadily. His face was hard above her, eyes dark and unreadable. He had promised not to hurt her...hadn't he? _Empty words from Luskan, Torio. You should know better._

He held the blade there another moment, gauging her reaction. "Cold even for the 'Icy One'?" he asked mockingly, no warmth in his voice whatsoever. He pressed the dagger firmly into her skin, watching the pale white flesh indent under the blade but stopping before he drew blood. He threw the blade aside, the weapon clattering noisily on the stone floor. "I have another blade for you. Undress me."

Torio sat up carefully, her body trembling almost uncontrollably as she knelt in front of him. Her fingers began working the laces of his shirt, keeping her eyes bent down to her task; she kept her movements succinct, business like, as she pushed his tunic off of his shoulders. She reached down, hesitating for a moment as her fingers touched the laces below his naval. He was beginning to harden, she could see through the fabric; she shut her eyes momentarily, steadying herself, her chest tightening painfully. She began pulling the laces on his trousers apart, pulling the strings all the way through the eyeholes, her fingers shaking.

Asrar watched her carefully. She was shaking and he smiled, delighting in her discomfort. When his trews were unlaced, he stood and pulled them off himself. She was sitting on the carpet, her face and eyes away from him. He stepped in front of her. "You know what to do. And mind the teeth." He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her towards him. "Do you do this for your husband? Is he gentle with you? You will find I am not quite so tender."

Torio winced slightly as his fingers gripped her hair, pulling her face between his legs. "My husband," she said through clenched teeth, "deserves such as this, Orban." She jerked her head forward slightly, impudently, away from his grasp, and then carefully wrapped her fingers around him, shutting her eyes. She felt a familiar deadening of sensation as she took him into her mouth, a light, weightlessness that shrouded her head; she felt separated, as if she were merely a bystander watching the proceedings. Her mind swam away from her, pulling at images; Sand's mouth and body, his eyes, his fingers in her hair (her short, brown hair). Her lips pulled at Orban's length as her thoughts wandered, her eyes tightly shut.

Orban sighed gutturally. "Oh you're quite good at this, my pet." He watched her silently work between his legs, her eyes closed, her movements effective and practiced. "I'm sure your husband deserves whatever it is you give him. When you see him tomorrow, will you take him into your sweet little mouth too? Does he deserve it after so effectively selling you to me like the whore that you are?" He reached out again, pulling her head forward as he pushed himself deeper in, to the back of her throat. Then he released her and withdrew from her mouth.

He knelt besides her and carefully wiped her lips. "That wasn't so bad now, was it, lovely Nagendra?" He pushed her gently back on the rug. "I'm a fair man, let me return the favor." He slid his tongue along her. His fingers gripped her thighs viciously to him, holding her down and to his mouth as he lapped between her legs.

Torio whimpered, thrashing for a moment and crashing back down to earth with brutalizing clarity. Her body responded with raging fervor, her muscles contracting almost painfully as the sensation shot through her middle, and she rolled her head against the rug, fighting it back. His hands pushed her legs down, applying more pressure when she tried to move them, refusing to release her. A short, half-moan, half-sob tore from her throat. "Bastard," she gasped, her fingers clutching at the rug.

"Your body gives you away, my pet. When you lie with your husband at night, is it still exciting for you? How many years have you been married now?" He crawled over her until he was face to face with her. "I've been called worse you know. But some women even have been known to call me handsome. You don't find me totally loathsome, do you?"

She inhaled slowly as he hovered over her, his dark eyes penetrating her own. "Physically," she said breathily, her voice tight with anger and rough with her body's traitorous arousal, "You may be pleasing to look at, Orban." She tilted her chin back stubbornly. "But you are Luskan...I know of your city, your people. Beautiful and powerful, and rotten on the inside."

_Like me._

He gave a deep, sonorous laugh. "You know me and my city far too well it would seem. My pet, you could probably get used to someone like me - someone beautiful and powerful and rotten on the inside. I'm very rich, I could buy you whatever your wicked heart desires." Asrar kissed her jawline. "Or I could keep my word to your husband and only take your body." With that he lowered himself, forcing himself inside her, sliding himself inside his prize covetously.

She bit her lip as he slid inside of her; her hands remained clawed against the rug, fingernails catching in the long, sinuous fibers beneath their bodies. "My husband can already buy off my wicked little heart," she said sharply; she wriggled slightly, her body recoiling as she felt his girth fill her expansively, her walls clenching spasmodically around him; her heels were digging into the floor as she strained not to flail and kick until he was off of her. "Not everything can simply be bought and sold, Orban." Her unfamiliar long hair was sticking to her neck and shoulders, a light sheen of perspiration spreading across her skin as his body pressed down on hers.

Orban kissed her down the neck. "Well it's good to know you wouldn't be after me for my money...But, Nagendra, you haven't told me if you could get used to me, a life with me." He began slowly thrusting, ignoring her stock-still posture. "A man as powerful as me needs a wife as lovely as you. We could get rid of your husband easily enough." Asrar groaned loudly and pushed himself further in. "Maybe we can buy off his wicked heart...or just kill him."

Torio's head rolled to the side, her face turned towards the fire as Asrar's mouth trailed down her neck. She forced her body to relax, to lie still, deceptively yielding as he began impaling himself into her body. _It might work, you know, girl._

_Neverwinter would never just let me disappear; they know what I look like, my alias; they would know what happened and send someone after me as soon as Sand disappeared...oh, bodaes_...

She sighed almost longingly, her eyes closed as she brought a pair of sharp blue eyes to the forefront of her mind. "No," she said, her voice barely a whisper; her hips were so flaccid they were rocking back and forth with Asrar's thrusts. She almost chuckled as she wondered what this wealthy little artificer would say if he realized he had the former Ambassador of all Luskan pinned beneath him on the rug. "You wouldn't know what to do with me, Orban," she said almost tauntingly. "Better for you to stick with what you know how to do."

"Indeed. Is that what you think? I think I would know how to put you in your place, pet." He grunted as he continued to heave inside her. "A pity nevertheless. The offer stands until morning when your husband collects you. In fact, it'll stand until you leave Luskan." He turned her face roughly to him, pressing his mouth to hers, forcing her lips apart with his tongue as he delved inside. His hands ran coarsely up the side of her body, groping unlovingly at her breasts, her hips. Grabbing onto her waist, he rolled over so that she was now on top. "Finish me. Make your husband's investment in the map worth something."

There was a moment of utter disorientation as she was swung from the floor like a rag doll and positioned on top of him; she swayed forward dizzily, her hands pressing against his chest to steady herself. Her hair rippled forward in silken clumps and for a moment she stared down at him, her stomach churning.

"Worth something?" She was suddenly angry, furious; furious at being used, by Nevalle, by Nasher, by Aarin, by Garius...by Neverwinter and Luskan and seemingly any person with relative power in between. She had scraped and scrounged and clawed her way over countless bodies and political parleys and god knows how many other things to gain what she would eventually lose in a heartbeat...

_…and you're still nothing but a perfumed whore spreading her legs over the political chessboard..._

Her hips began driving against him; she shuddered, fingernails digging into Orban's body mercilessly, wanting to hurt him, break his skin, feel blood on her hands; her chest was a tight ball of pain, misery filling her to her very core and lashing through her harder than a whip. Her hair fall around her face like a curtain, hiding the wetness brimming in her eyes.

_You do not weep, Torio Claven._

Asrar winced and then moaned as she suddenly went from being passive to releasing a deluge of aggression. "Oh yes - harder!" Her whole body was smacking into him, the beads of sweat dripping and sliding between her breasts which were now bouncing in the air with each determined thrust. His fingers sunk into her hips, holding her tight but not needing to guide her frenzy. His whole shaft slid in and out of her, straining against her walls until he peaked, his back coming off the rug, his toes curling. His head fell back against the furred floor, his mouth open and breathing hard. His eyes were rolled back, his fingers digging even harder into her flesh. An animalistc roar ripped from his throat and he grunted, satisfied, with each pulse expelling his seed into her, until he finished and felt himself grow limp again.

Torio watched him, her eyes turbulent and her breath coming hard, as he finally lay still against the rug. She pulled her hands back from his chest, eyeing the deep, angry red gouges she had left in his skin.

_I'm going to kill you. _

"You look rather satisfied, Master Asrar," She said lowly, her face shadowed by the firelight flickering through the hair around it. "I do...apologize if I hurt you."

"I am rather satisfied. For now anyway." He sat up and looked down at his chest, touching the skin gingerly. There was some blood. "Don't apologize, my pet. You don't mean a word of it. It's too soon to be lying to me." He stood slowly, his skin damp from exertion and grabbed her by the upper arm, pulling her towards the bed. "It has been a long day. No doubt you are as tired as I am. Let us sleep."

Torio didn't resist as she was pulled towards the bed; her eyes flicked wildly to where her dress lay discarded; she could see the prongs of the comb glittering dully in the firelight where it lay half discarded in the heap of deep blue cloth...

She was none-too gently tossed back onto his bed, Asrar's form following her. She fell still after she pulled the blanket to her chin, her eyes scanning the floor briefly before she fell back against the pillows; dagger by the far wall, her slippers by the door; comb hidden beneath her dress...

Asrar wrapped his arm around her waist. "Try to sleep, all right? I don't need you moving around in the bed and waking me up. I have people to meet and errands to run tomorrow." He smiled harshly. "Besides, we want you looking beautiful for your blessed reunion with your husband as well." He closed his eyes; moments later, he was asleep.

Torio lay awake, staring at Asrar's ceiling; the sky was still dark outside. Asrar made no sound; even his breathing was heavy, deep, and near silent. She felt completely and unutterably alone. She knew it was pointless; she had no idea what the range was for the telepathy spell, but she felt so raw...She stretched her mind out... _Bodaes?..._

Silence.

She huddled the edge of the bed, shutting her eyes momentarily. She had no idea how she would be able to sleep...

...and when she opened her eyes, the sun was creeping over the horizon. Her heart skipped a beat..._it was almost over_. She slipped from the bed, glancing at Asrar's form, and moved to where her dress lay discarded.

Asrar opened his eyes. His hand and arm found only empty bed. He sat up and turned. The woman was standing by the fireplace, picking up her clothes. "So eager to leave me, Nagendra?" He stood up from the bed, pulling on a housecoat and then walked over to the fireplace, stoking it. "My words may seem empty to you, but for what it's worth, I enjoyed my time with you."

"I'm sure you did," she said calmly. Torio stepped into her gown, pulling it up and over her body; it was ripped in numerous places, the threads stretched in some; she discreetly picked the comb up from the floor once she laced her gown back together, however shoddily, and began absently combing out her hair with the fingers of her free hand, her expression placid as she looked at him expectantly.

Asrar nodded at Torio and then pulled her close for a final kiss. "I suppose you want the word to activate the map? It is - and listen carefully -_ lethoveruminum_." He stepped back. "If there is nothing else - you will find the bag of excess gems in the other room along with some parchment and some writing tools. Write out the two promised recipes and all instructions there. I suspect your husband will be here quite soon and quite eager to see you." He began walking towards his bedroom door. "My offer still stands. Despite how I was last night, I think I would make a wonderful husband for you."

She frantically pulled the syllables into her head..._lethoveruminum_...

"Master Asrar," she said coolly. He stopped, half turned. "You know," she said silkily, suddenly demure...she walked towards him, her eyes hooded by her long lashes as she looked up at him; her fingers reached out, toying with his robe, grabbing it and pulling him close to her. "In the light of day, your offer sounds rather...reasonable, considering the circumstances..."

She pulled on the robe, drawing his face to hers; she kissed him, hungrily, desperately...

...she felt him stiffen, felt him suck in his breath in surprise...she felt the hot, sticky fluid gush out over her hand, oozing and spilling to the floor…

"On the other hand," she whispered, "Your prospects seem to be rather dim at the moment." His body was already shaking spastically; she saw a fleck of foam form at the corner of his mobile, cruel mouth. She twisted the comb, feeling the sharp, metal prongs rip through the soft flesh of his belly. Completely unnecessary, and yet... "If only you knew, pig," She hissed into his face. "If you knew who I was..." She stepped back, staring hard down into his dark eyes; she released the comb, letting his body fall with a soft, near-silent thud across the rug where he had taken her mere hours before. He twitched spasmodically, red-flecked spittle bubbling from his mouth as she calmly moved across the room and retrieved her dagger, slipping it back into her garter. She caught her reflection in the mirror; her eyes were hollow, sunken and shadowed in her pale face. She slipped her feet into her slippers at the door.

As the door clicked silently shut behind her, Orban Asrar gave a final shudder and lay still.

* * *

Sand left the mansion, storming past the guards and serving staff, and started walking blindly down the street. He felt cowardly and numb, leaving Torio behind like that to pay the ultimate price for this damnable map. A map! It wasn't until he was halfway to the Inn that he realized that he was clutching the map openly in his hands and he hadn't been paying attention to the surroundings whatsoever. 

He risked a look behind him; as far as he could tell, nobody was following him and he tucked the map inside his robes. The streets were dark and mostly deserted. A few drunks stumbled past him, asking for coin and then shouting insults to him and his familial lineage as he stomped past. A guard or two gave him a curious look but opted to avoid him. He knew he probably looked unwell and unstable. He felt unwell and unstable. He wanted to reach out with his mind to her but he was too far from her now. She was alone. He was alone.

The ariik gem hung heavy against his chest. He could have offered that instead of Torio. Instead he was not thinking - stupid! - selfish. They would have found another way to kill Asrar instead of risking the girl, as able as he suspected she was. His fingers were itching to unleash a torrent of spells, right here in the middle of the street. Fireballs and lightening spells until the whole city burnt into a smoking ruin, Asrar along with it.

So tempting.

Instead, he found himself opening the front door of the Seven Sails Inn and walking, dazed, inside. He found himself in his - their - room. He locked the door and stood there.

Business first before you lose your mind...

Something snapped inside him.

_...Damn you all._

He grabbed the nearest item within reach, some potion or other and flung it against the far wall, feeling a violent satisfaction as seeing the glass shatter and the liquid explode. He tipped the table over, sending the wineglasses and the half-finished meal from earlier to the floor with a loud crash. He floundered a second, nothing else immediately available to appease his temper so he turned and punched the wall. The plaster cracked, leaving behind a fist-sized hole. He punched it again and again, until the wall was splattered with a fine mist of blood. Sand barely felt the pain but was aware he had probably broken his hand. His shoulders sagged and he sunk to the floor, drawing up his knees. For the first time in his long life, he sobbed openly, hot and raw, all emotion with no rationalization. They had succeeded; but he had failed.

It could have been minutes or hours. When Sand finally lifted his head, his whole body felt beaten and weathered. He suddenly felt old - all three centuries pressing down on him. He looked at his hand - definitely broken. He half-crawled, half-limped over to his bag and pulled out a healing potion. He felt the magic heal the cracked bones; he carefully closed his hand. Still swollen but at least not broken.

They still needed to get out of Luskan to survive.

He pulled out the map and lay it across the floor, staring at the blank hide. Suddenly knowing what to do, he cast _Polymorph Object_. The map seemed to protest a moment and then it turned in a non-descript belt. Sand quickly cast the _Permanency_ spell on it and then belted it around his waist. He went over to the bundle of gear they had, pulling out a dozen scrolls he knew a man like Asrar would appreciate, and then an assortment of magical trinkets. He rubbed his face tiredly. It was still dark outside. He might as well try to get some sleep.

Sand crawled into the bed that him and Torio had shared earlier. It was cold. The bed was large, too large for just him and it made him painfully aware of his singularity at the moment. Sand got out of the bed and pulled the heavy blanket along with him. He walked back into main room. One of her shirts was on the floor, discarded in their flurry of getting ready. He picked that up as well and brought it all to the small couch. Sand curled up on the cushions, pulling the blankets over him, holding the shirt in his hands, and fell into an unhappy asleep.

* * *

Sand's eyes were open the minute the first hints of sunlight streamed through the window. He was totally sore from sleeping on the couch but he ignored the pain, grabbing the items for Asrar. He hesitated and then ran back for his potion bag. The man had promised not to hurt her but... He bolted from the room, not caring that he was still dressed in the clothes from the night before. 

When Sand reached the street, he forced himself to walk towards Asrar's mansion. He knew it wasn't far and yet each step didn't seem to take him any closer. His stomach was completely agitated; he was so anxious he felt like vomiting. But he steeled himself and walked towards the mansion.

He paused on the street. All was quiet; no guards shouting or running around. Either Torio hadn't killed him yet or his body hadn't been discovered. Sand approached the door, telling the guard and not mincing his words, "I am here for my wife and to deliver this."

The guard nodded and opened the door. "Wait in the foyer. She will be down soon."

Sand entered the front hall and stood, barely suppressing his nervous trembling. He was ready to cast any spell if they ran into trouble but he hoped he could simple get Torio and leave his place forever.

* * *

The hallway seemed to stretch forever; she passed through the antechamber outside of Asrar's room, and into the wide festhall they had dined in the night before. Her heels echoed loud and ominous as she crossed the wide floor; the guards watched her progress, following her with their eyes, and she clenched her fist into her skirt as she walked, hiding the dried, sticky blood smeared across her palm against the fabric. She held her head high as she passed from the festhall and into the long hallway leading to the foyer. 

Her face was calm, but she urgently pushed out with her mind; her thought sounded desperate, an edge of frayed nerves and panic riding along in its wake. _Bodaes. Bodaes, please...are you here? Lethoveruminum, it's the word, it's lethoveruminum..._

"Wait! Stop her!"

She sucked in a breath and ran harder than she ever had in her life, sprinting for the doors that rose up to meet her at the end of the hall.

* * *

_Helkaer! Oh gods you're all right...Lethoveruminum...Hurry, girl!_

Sand heard the voices of the guards before he saw them and instantly he knew three things: Torio had killed him, she was headed this way and she was in trouble. He ran forward and met her halfway down the long hall. She looked horrible - unlike he had ever seen her before - completely drained, pale. "Keep running!" He quickly cast _Daze_ on the two guards chasing her and then turned as well, following her. He fumbled with his component pouch a moment and then cast _Invisibility Sphere_ on himself. "Here! Over here!"

Torio whirled, clutching blindly, she saw her arms disappear before the rest of her followed, and then her hands grasped at Sand's shoulders and she could feel him..._Oh gods, bodaes_!

They backed up against the farthest corner as a pair of guards spilled into the foyer moments after the spell had taken effect. She turned, pressing her face against Sand's invisible chest and stifling her wracked, ragged, rather loud breathing..._Oh gods, we're going to die..._

"Damn it, Sergeant! I want them found; both her and the husband, I don't care if you have to strip all the men from the house and send them out into the streets." A furious looking man in highly polished plate armor glared daggers at the quailing young man in front of him. "Alert the watch; make sure they check anyone trying to leave the city, and send someone to the inn they were staying at. They won't get away from us." The Sergeant saluted and ran off, as the Captain turned and hollered for more men, moving into the adjacent room.

Sand held her as close as humanly possible, his heart thumping so loud it was a true miracle none of the guards heard. _We're not going to die. You're forgetting who you are with, dear girl._

Sand gripped her hand tightly. He looked towards the front door. So close...and yet... It would be impossible for them to open it and slip out with raising suspicion from the exterior guards. He quietly cast _Silence_. Now at least they would be able to run without worrying about making any noise. Sand cautiously began moving back towards the inside of the house, hoping for a back door when a small contingent of guards marched out of the doorway he had been planning to go through.

He quickly pulled her up a flight of stairs to the second floor. It was quiet up here and he pulled her from room to room, looking for one with a large window. The final room at the end of the hall had a window that the both of them would be able to jump out of. Sand stuck his head out and looked down. It was a daunting drop onto a small grassy area. He climbed up on the ledge and cast _Feather Fall_.

_Hang on, dear girl. _Sand jumped.

Torio's skirt whipped up around her legs, her hair flew in an invisible streaming ribbon behind them as they fell; her arms clung around Sand's neck...They fell lightly, but still in a confused heap; she felt her shaking legs give out from under her, the jolt knocking her back from Sand and sending her sprawling onto her back. She lifted her head and for a moment, panicked, as she caught the edge of her blue skirt laying against the grass, on the outside of the invisibility sphere...

She yanked it back, but not before a young grounds guard caught the movement; he gaped, open mouthed, and Torio took the opportunity to stand shakily to her feet._Come on!_ she thought, reaching for any part of Sand she could find. Her hand closed around his, and she took off, Sand at her side; they sprinted across the house's back lawn towards the high, elegantly manicured hedge just as the young guard began shouting...

_Wait...Helkaer...wait wait wait! _Sand dispelled the _Silence_ spell and threw a quick look behind him, looking through his component pouch. Where was it? He pulled out a small downy feather and immediately began chanting. The sounds of approaching footsteps, clanking of metal, were rapidly approaching. He could feel Torio standing besides him, breathing hard from the running, jumping...

...and now flying. Sand cast _Mass Fly_ and pulled Torio close to him as they lifting up in the air, over the hedge and away from the sounds of the angry guards, away from Orban Asrar's house forever.

"Oh hells," she whispered as she felt their feet leave the ground, and then they were up, up, and gone...the winding, squat streets below them passed by, people going about their business, completely unaware of the invisible pair flying above their heads.

"Somewhere safe, relatively closed off," she whispered in his ear. "We need to activate Gend's rings and get the hells out of here..." Her voice, even whispering, was cracking as she spoke. They turned in the air and Sand finally touched them down in a small, side alley, with high walls of the buildings on two sides and a small dividing fence at the back. The street at the end of the alley was almost deserted...

The invisibility sphere popped out of existence, and Torio and Sand pressed against the wall. She caught a decent look at Sand for the first time since the night before; his face looked drawn, cold, pained, the shadows around his eyes so deep they almost looked like bruises. She touched the contact ring around her finger. "Are you ready? We need to say those words, remember?" She was whispering, her eyes darting back towards the street uneasily.

Sand nodded. "Ready." He slowly recited the words, carefully pronouncing them, watching Torio do the same. He felt a bizarre magical tug on his fingers: the beacon was activated. "I suppose we can wait here." He leaned against the brick wall, exhaling and then began rummaging through his pack. Wordlessly, he handed her a small phial of pink fluid – a contraceptive potion, not meeting her eyes, before asking, "Are you hurt?"

Torio sank against the wall, taking the potion from Sand's fingers with shaking fingers. Was she hurt? She was exhausted; her entire body ached like one, large, throbbing bruise, her long hair tangled from their impromptu flight from the house. Her insides felt cold and heavy and black, twisting inside of her.

"Yes," she said simply, although it wasn't exactly what Sand had meant. She pulled the cork from the potion, drinking it down in its entirety; the empty phial slipped from her fingers and smashed against the pavement with a delicate tinkle! She glanced at him wearily; his right hand looked slightly mottled and bruised, and she frowned slightly, reaching for it. "Your hand, bodaes," she said quietly. "What happe---"

And then blackness fell over her face, and she let out a muffled, startled cry as the air was sucked away from her lungs; she slipped, fell hard onto the cobble, her feet kicking and sliding and scraping against broken glass as she gagged and hacked, gasping for air as the black fabric against her face smothered and pulled against her mouth; her thoughts trickling erratically through her mind as she lost consciousness

..._Sand!...what is...where...I can't breathe...A'maelamin..._

Then there was a brief, bursting pain in her head and true blackness enveloped her.

Sand was about to reply to Torio when he felt a rough hewn sack drop over his head, the hemp cords twisting around his throat. He could feel Torio's panicky thoughts and even as he struggled against his assailants...

_Torio...I'm coming..._

His attacker was behind him, strong and Sand struggled to get enough air in his lungs for a spell. Just one spell...

A sharp, shooting pain across the back of his head, flashes of white spotted lights before his eyes and then merciful unconsciousness...

_Torio..._


	11. Chapter 11

_This story is Part XI of the Series and is rated M for graphic scenes of torture._

**Volume 2, Part XI: Welcome Back to Luskan**

It was dark. So dark.

Probably because he had his eyes closed. He opened them a crack. Still dark but not as dark. He could see a small very sliver of light close by. Sand tried moving and realized he couldn't. The pain on the back of his head was throbbing making even the slightest movements send bolts of pain down his entire body. But it meant he was alive. He was also bound, his wrists tied cruelly behind his back, his ankles lashed together as well.

He took a deep breath and realized he was also gagged. The information was coming to him slowly as his consciousness returned to him. He was lying on a floor, a cold stone floor - it was damp, moldy.

_Torio. _He reached out with his mind, tentatively, the headache becoming worse with effort.

There seemed to be pain everywhere at once. Torio tried to swallow, to ease her parched throat, but the gag in her mouth prevented such; she could see a vague, pale light in a line across from where she was lying on...she shifted...stone?

_Helkaer..._

It was faint, like the sputtering light of a candle reaching her from across a yawning chasm..._Bodaes! Are you all right? Whe-_

She had lifted her head involuntarily, feeling her short hair brush against her cheeks... Her stomach sank like a stone as she realized the implications._Bodaes_, she thought after a moment of pure, abject terror washed through her,_my polymorph has been dispelled. _

Her terror was palpable and it translated over to him; for a moment, he felt nothing but her blind terror. The adrenaline shot through his body, his heart rate skyrocketed. He lifted his head and felt the long strands of hair fall over his eyes.

_Oh gods - she was right._

_Stay calm, Helkaer. At least they haven't discovered this telepathy spell yet._

He blinked a few times and realized that he could see clearly in the dim light. He was in some sort of stone-walled cell. A table was along the far wall, as was a rickety wooden chair. On the table he could see a crumpled robe - he looked down and realized he was wearing only his undershirt and trews. His boots were off, his dagger gone, all the rings, the ariik gem… _The map!_

He looked down on his waist and then on the table. He sighed, relieved, when he saw the simple black leather belt tossed carelessly under the robes. But his relief was short-lived, as he heard footsteps approaching his door. There was an ominous click as a key was turned in the rusted lock, and then the door opened.

A pair of guards marched into Sand's cell; they grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, and began dragging him out, leaving the narrow cell and pulling the wizard down the hall. They pass multiple little doors on their way, and as Sand was dragged past one he could feel a flickering at the back of his mind..._Bodaes_... More guards passed him as he was pulled up the stairs, heading back down towards the cells, their faces grim. The flickering at the back of his mind that was Torio's presence dimmed, and was finally silenced as he was pulled farther and farther up the long stairway...

A door was kicked open. Sand was slammed against the far wall, his arms raised above his head; chains were wrapped and locked around his wrists so that he hung with his feet barely touching the floor. They guards tugged on the chains to ensure their security, and then moved to the door.

An elven woman stepped through, her long, russet hair swept up into a tight bun. She wore nondescript black clothing, and in her hand was something that looked like a wand. She was recognizable as the elven serving girl at Asrar's dinner party. "Sand," she said smoothly, shutting the door behind her. "Welcome back to Luskan."

* * *

Torio began wriggling desperately, ribbing her wrists against the knots around her wrist...she could feel Sand's presence flitting past her door, heard the steps of the guards. She reached out to him as she felt him stretching, fading...He was gone. And her door was opening...

The second set of guards that had passed Sand picked Torio up under the arms and half dragged, half carried her. They took her down the long narrow corridor, in the opposite direction of Sand. A door was opened, the hinges creaking and she was seated roughly in a chair. A table was lined with bottles, wicked looking sharp instruments, and a cat o'nine-tails. The guards stood on either side of her, waiting. Footsteps could be heard echoing down the hallway, approaching her cell with a firm resolution.

A man, the waiter from Asrar's home, entered. "Ambassador - or should I say - former ambassador Claven. How good of you to join us."

* * *

Sand grimaced, his head feeling sticky with drying, coagulated blood, his arms already starting to tingle from holding up his body. He swung his feet lightly, trying to see if he could reach the ground but it was futile. It was so tantalizingly close - the nearness of the floor making it all the more painful and frustrating. He could feel the cold emanating from the rough stone floor on the soles of his bare feet and if he wiggled his toes forward, he could place a bit of his weight on there before the chains hauled him back up.

He stared at the elven woman. "So - my reputation precedes me. And it appears promotions in Luskan are a lot quicker and easier to come by than when I was here. Serving girl to interrogator in one day? You must have some skills I am not aware of. I personally thought your catering form could have used some refinement." Sand had no idea why he was goading the girl. But he was tired, sore, hurt, irritated, separated from Torio again and likely facing the prospect of a lengthy torture session and if he was lucky, death. He didn't want to think about what awaited him if he was unlucky. "Did Gweynn send you?"

The elf smiled at Sand slightly. "Guard," she said calmly; one of the men in uniform snapped to attention. "Bring the wizard's personal effects here." The guard saluted and left the chamber, his platemailed feet clanking against the flagstones.

The elf tapped the wand-like instrument against the palm of her hand as she walked towards him, a considering look in her eye. "Gweynn Malfang is of no concern to you, at the moment, Sand." She stepped forward until she was standing in front of him. "I've heard of you, you know; you were quite an enthusiastic learner while you were here, albeit somewhat...hindered by your reluctance to accept some of the 'tower's practices." She clucked her tongue. "Such a shame."

She flicked her wrist; the wand tapped against Sand's collarbone, resting there as she said, "However...if you cooperate with me, then maybe we shall see about reinstating you; I'm sure the Hosttower would appreciate welcoming the wizard who not only recovered the Scales of the Sphinx from Asrar's greed-driven hands, but delivered the head of the traitorous Torio Claven." She practically grinned. "Such a curiosity; and to think, they've assumed her dead or captured; their poor, devious, crafty little ambassador. And all this time, she's been working for your dear Neverwinter..."

She tapped Sand's cheek with her wand. "Ah well now, it will make a dramatic revelation; on such things are powerful men built. What say you? Where is the map?"

* * *

Torio hunched against the back of the chair; in the light the interrogation room (oh, she knew exactly what room it was) she could see she was still wearing the torn, bloodstained dress from the auction; her feet were bare, scratched raw from being dragged through the cold stone halls, tied together at the ankles. The demure slit in the skirt was stretched and torn beyond repair, revealing her legs (and the general lack of garter or knife). She clenched them together, clasping her hands on her lap (which were also tied together; she could feel the bracelet cold and lifeless against her wrist.

"How good of you to invite me," she said acidly. Her mind was racing furiously while she tried not to look at the various implements scattered across the table. "Did it ever occur to you that the reason I'm ultimately here is to reach the Hosttower? Release me from these ridiculous bonds; you're wasting my time."

The man crouched before Torio, smiling skeptically, "Really Miss Claven? This big elaborate plot involving the Scales of the Sphinx, and killing Asrar, all to get back to the Hosttower? What about the wizard? Is he trying to get back to Luskan too or are you dragging him along as an unwilling victim?" He shook his head lightly. "You'll have to convince me better than that. It was quite the surprise for us to have found out we had you captured. We all thought you had been hanged by Nasher." He gave her a large toothy grin, not much different than a cat that had just captured a mouse and was now batting it about in its paws...

Torio shifted in her chair, narrowing her eyes down at the man. "I'll have you know that Nasher has been keeping me in captivity; the mission for the Sphinx was a way to use me to Neverwinter's advantage." Well, that much was true. "The wizard is my keeper. Now will you untie me, you ignorant Luskan dog? I have much to tell the Brotherhood."

The man brushed a stray lock of brown hair out of his eyes. "Ah, so the wizard is an instrument of your captivity. Then you won't mind if we dispose of him. Good good."

He stood and walked over to the table of tools, touching the different tools. He picked up a heavy iron tool, with four long curved claws. He held it up to her. "A cat's paw. Have you ever used one, Miss Torio?" He touched the tip. "Ouch, quite sharp! Any preference for how we kill him? Surely you must know his weaknesses by now - or would you like to do it yourself?"

He put the torture device down with a heavy _thunk_and turned back to her. "I represent the Brotherhood to you right now. Why don't you tell me what it is you need to say, and I will determine if you can go see the Overmage or not?"

* * *

Sand narrowed his eyes. "So you work for the Hosttower? I was wondering if the Arcane Brotherhood was going to get involved in the auction. It seemed bizarre none of your representatives were there." He tried flexing his arms and relieving some of the tension in his muscles. He mulled over the elf's words. He hadn't been able to save Torio from Asrar; but maybe he could spare her from whatever it was they planning for her. No sense in both of them getting killed. "That Luskan harpy was forced to serve Neverwinter or she faced the hangman's noose. I had the unhappy misfortune of being her...babysitter at the Keep."

The pounding pain in the back of his head was starting to abate slightly. He did his best to ignore the wand that was touching his cheek. He needed to stall, to think, "What are you offering me?"

The elven woman ran the wand along Sand's jawline absently. "Full acceptance into the Arcane Brotherhood," she said, without flinching. "Access to research, artifacts. Power, prestige; a say in the legislature and decision making processes of the city." Her eyes narrowed slyly. "And of course, protection from Neverwinter's eventual retaliation on your person." The wand slid down from his chin to his neck, crossing his collarbone and tracing down the front of his chest, snagging at the fabric of his undertunic. "All you have to do, Sand, is give up the map. How could you refuse? Really, we're logical, civilized elves...you would never receive an offer such as this amongst our own people, much less the base humans of Luskan." She arched her brows at him, the tip of the wand resting lightly against his chest.

Sand swallowed hard. "I...wish I could take you up on your offer, dear girl. But quite unfortunately, I have already destroyed the map."

"Oh?" The elven woman imperceptibly switched her grip on the wand; instead of it resting lightly in her hand, it was an extension of her index finger, pointing into his chest. "Now...that is a shame." She sighed melodramatically. "Well...I suppose I could convince them to give you a chance, given that you've dropped Claven right into our paws." She lowered the wand fractionally, its tip pointing towards his stomach. "However, I'm not quite positive you're being honest with me, Sand." She pulled a pout, but her eyes were glittering dangerously...eagerly. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" Her finger tapped against the wand, once, briefly...and a short, hot, searing lance of pain shot into Sand's gut.

* * *

Torio's heart pounded...where was Sand? Her skin crawled at the thought of what they might be doing to him…_Focus on what they might be doing to you, girl_. She let out a loud, piercingly clear laugh. "You represent the Brotherhood? Please, boy, I was walking their halls while you were still scraping outside the front door licking any available boot that presented itself to you. A common questioner, representing the Overlord himself?" She tossed her head disdainfully. "I asked you, politely, to stop wasting my time."

The man's hand tightened, his knuckles turning white. He grabbed a small fine scalpel, the blade shining menacingly in the flickering torchlight. He hooked his finger into Torio's mouth, pulling one corner of her mouth back and pressed the blade against her lip. "We all know you were nothing more than a whore so don't question my credentials. You know how they mark whores who have stolen from their masters? They slice them, mouth to ear. The wounds heal but the scars never go away." His voice lowered into a dangerous hiss. "Stop wasting my time, Miss Claven and talk to me."

Torio sucked in her breath, her head instinctively pulling forward as the blade pressed against the inside of her mouth. She shut her eyes, choking on the whimper rising in her throat..._relax, relax, relax.._.

"I've been in Crossroad Keep for weeks," she said, her voice slurred from the blade in her mouth. "I could draw them a map if I had to...could they resist? Neverwinter's last bastion of hope against the darkness, and they get to know every little back door, nook and cranny?" She wasn't even positive she could remember the hallway outside of her own bedroom right now...and how would they know the difference, anyway?... but she held her breath, waiting, feeling the blade press against her mouth.

He relaxed his hand and pulled his finger from her mouth. "That is a start. I would hate to hurt somebody as pretty as you." He motioned to the guards. "One of you, get me a quill, some parchment." He put the scalpel down and hopped on the table, sitting and swinging his legs casually, looking for all the world like he was having a casual conversation on a bright sunny afternoon with Torio. "You still haven't told me what you'd like done to the elf?"

* * *

If Sand could have, he would have cried out but the pain was so quick and intense that all he could do was twist in the chains that held him, not being able to breathe, think...It was as if every nerve in his body was on fire, spreading out from his mid-section.

Then it was gone, leaving him panting, hanging limply. His voice was shaking, coming out higher than usual. "You are quite convincing, girl, but the map is gone..."

_Steady, Sand, steady. It's just pain, pain that goes away..._He gritted his teeth and stared at her, defiant.

She tsked. "Sand. Come now. Don't you think we would know if such a powerfully enchanted item had been instantaneously destroyed within the walls of this city?" She lowered the wand, her eyes narrowed into mere slits, until the tip pointed against his groin. "The truth now, wizard...I would hate to damage such a fine specimen as yourself, but needs must..."

Sand flinched. Why was it that women always _always_ threatened a man's manhood when they wanted something? "Perhaps you underestimate my ability to destroy the map and cloak the process, girl. I am a mage of considerable talents and I have been in Luskan long enough to understand how nothing done here is safe from scrying."

Her eyes narrowed. "You obviously haven't been in Luskan long enough to know when to tell the truth." She tapped her finger briefly, and flicked the wand against the inside of his thigh, holding it there slightly longer than the first time. The wand crackled as it shot pain between his legs, buzzing slightly; and then she pulled it back.

Sand's whole back arched as the pain burned through him. He bit down hard on his tongue and tasted the coppery liquid accumulating in his mouth. He tried squirming out of the way but the chains were too tight and holding him at her mercy. "Oh gods..." Some faraway voice was crying out in pain and he realized it was him. His heart was racing, and he no longer had the energy to even hold himself up.

She turned from him, a bored look on her face. The guard had re-entered the chamber and was laying out Sand's effects. She stood over them for a moment, her eyes wandering over the robe, the belt, various rings, a few wands...

"Oh...what's this, little wizard?" When she turned around, she had the ariik gem dangling from its chain on the end of her wand.

* * *

Torio looked away, examining the far wall absently. "Whatever you want. It doesn't matter to me." _Oh Gods, Sand, please tell me you've fireballed half the tower by now..._"Although Neverwinter sent us here; they'll come looking if he disappears." She glanced at him archly, keeping her voice cold. "Mark him, I say, and let him wander back to them like the whipped pup he is; kill him and you'll bring Nasher's attention on the city. He's one of their...'heroes', one of the companions for those captains at the head of the war." She had almost said your city. "And with the problems with Ruyathm...well, that might be a bit disastrous." She waved a hand absently. "But, I'm sure you'll do what you wish." She could feel her blood pounding in her ears.

The man tilted his head back thoughtfully. "Actually, we highly doubt Nasher will care much. The elf likely entered here with forged documents and without the leave of Luskan. That's trespassing and unlike the... disaster... you brought down on yourself with Ember, I am fairly certain we won't let the elf go back to Neverwinter for their 'high justice'. The treaty Nasher signed is still in effect." He picked up the cat o'nine tails distractedly and began smacking it light against his leg.

"Secondly, he's not a Shard-Bearer. I'm fairly certain Nasher could find another mage to replace him." The man waved his hand dismissively. "By the time Falathiel is done with him anyway, I doubt he'll be of much value to anybody. If she doesn't kill him, that is."

The guard returned with the writing tools. The man laid out them out on a small table. "Release her arms, but keep her legs bound." He turned to Torio. "Draw the map. And then we should discuss the other map."

* * *

Sand was vaguely aware that she was talking to him and he lifted his head weakly. "You know what that is." The blood was seeping out of his mouth and tried spitting out as much of it as possible before he choked.

Falathiel swung the amulet slightly from the wand, before letting it drop into her hand. She pushed open the locket, and her eyes widened slightly, darting to Sand's face. "And how," she said evenly, "did you get an ariik gem, little wizard? You do not belong to any of the elven families purportedly possessing one." She shut the protective locket with a _snap!_

Sand kept his eyes steady on Falathiel. "You don't think, in all the time of adventuring, that we wouldn't have come across such a marvel? I was the only one who could use it so naturally it became mine..."

After a moment, she gestured with a finger. One of the guards stepped towards her. "Take this," she said, dangling the chain so that the human guard could take a hold of it. "And give it to Keldrin. He should find it useful on the Ambassador." Her mouth twitched in a smile as she glanced at the guard, the man taking the chain gingerly between his fingers. "And be careful not to touch the gem; I do not wish to have your partner clean you up off of the floor if you do."

She sighed once the man left. "Well, we can at least prepare Torio Claven for presentation to the overmage. You spent time with her, yes? Do you think she would prefer a silver urn? Perhaps a garnet box? They might even use her ashes for spell components. A fitting end to the harpy." She pressed the tip of the wand to Sand's forehead. "Don't you agree? At least there's one little ray of hope for you in this yet."

His insides gave a twist more painful than the torture the Luskan had been administering at the mention of Torio but Sand fought to keep his composure. "What do I care what you do with her? I'll be happy to be rid of the girl." The words were bitter, sitting darkly in the air in front of him. He could feel the tip of the wand pressing against his head, looming...

Falathiel smiled at him, almost sweetly. "Ah, but you were so convincing at the dinner; we watched all of the possible auctioneers that night; I was quite touched by your...tenderness..." She flicked a strand of hair back from his forehead with the tip of the wand. "And curiously enough, your room at the Sails was practically destroyed when we went to search it. You would have been horrified at the mess...there was even blood on the wall..." Her eyes flicked upwards, gazing at Sand's bruised, still swollen hand.

"Interesting, don't you think?" She bent her face close to Sand's ear, applying a slow, gentle pressure; the pain was steady, but not as intense as before; it built slowly, gradually. "Keldrin," she breathed, "will strip the flesh from her back; he will break every finger on those little hands of hers...he will brand his name into her body until she can no longer even scream." She pulled the wand back from his head. "Unless...you tell me where the map is."


	12. Chapter 12

_This story is Part XII of the Series and is rated M for graphic scenes of sexuality, nudity and torture._

**Volume 2, Part XII: Mostly Alive**

Torio took the pen in her hand and began scrawling; she knew the Keep, knew its ins and out, from when Garius centered his operations there and when she was brought there later on; her lines were accurate to the last corner; _haven't I always harped on security?_

The entire layout was also completely backwards.

"The other map? The Scales." She kept her voice even, but her fingers shook slightly as she sketched. "Is that what this is all about? I'm sure the wizard you're so eager to kill knows something about that. I was merely a tool to get close to Orban." She made her voice slightly indignant...it wasn't particularly hard, at that.

There was a knock on the door and Keldrin went and answered it. He spoke quietly with the guard and then gingerly took something on his fingertip.

"Oh yes - the mage knows something about the map but unfortunately...given his current situation with Falathiel, he seems...unable to speak very much on it." He shook his head sadly. "They didn't get far at all in their conversation." He flung the locket onto the floor by Torio's feet. "Where is the map? Spare yourself from his fate." He smiled suddenly. "Actually - you seemed quite close to the wizard during Asrar's dinner. Tell me and save Sand from his fate." The cat o'nine tails were dangling from his hands.

Torio stared at the locket. _The gem. Sand..._

"I've told you; the wizard knows where the map is. I saw it once, in Orban's home, before he gave it to him. Not since. He might have even destroyed it by now." Every heartbeat seemed to seize painfully in her chest as she watched the cat'o'nine tails tap lightly against Keldrin's thigh.

Keldrin snorted derisively. "That I don't believe for a second. You're not one to place your trust in something as important as that map in somebody else's hands." He grabbed a thin vial of milky white liquid. "Do you know what this is, Miss Claven? I'm certain you used this quite a bit in your day. Guards!"

The guards moved over to either side of Torio, grabbing her arms and holding them firmly, lifting her up off the seat. Keldrin took Torio's chin roughly in his fingers, prying her mouth open and pouring a few drops on her tongue. He kicked the chair away and moved behind her, holding the cat o'nine tails in his hand. "Where is the map!" He snapped whip once, hard, across her back, tearing through her dress.

* * *

Sand closed his eyes. "I...I've hidden it." He could feel the blood draining from his face. He was playing a risky game but he knew of no other way out. "Please..." His voice cracked. "Let her go. She has nothing to do with this."

"Where," she hissed. She held up a hand, and one of the guards moved to the door. "Tell me," she said, soothingly. "Tell me and we'll let her be...back to Neverwinter with her tail between her legs." She smirked. "Just like you. Freedom for her and ultimate power...we can do it, little wizard, only Gweynn and these guards know that you're here..." Her eyes flickered for a moment, realizing her mistake, but she merely smiled smugly, confident in the chains around his wrists. "We can deliver, Sand. Now, will you provide?"

Sand spat out more of the blood from his mouth. His tongue was starting to swell from the bite and his voice was thick, foreign. "You promise a lot; how can I trust you to deliver?" His arms were shaking from the strain. But at least they had believed his bluff. "Proof of life. I want to know she's alive...show me Torio." He needed to get close to her, to touch her mind and see her, just in case it would be the last time he would ever be near her again...

* * *

Torio nearly choked on the serum as it trickled down her throat; she felt a protesting spasm along her spine as the neurotoxin seeped into her bloodstream, and then she bit off a cry as the whip lashed across her back; she could feel the leather thongs bite into her skin, dragging torn shreds of fabric through the skin of her back. "Gods," she gasped. "I don't know! I don't know where it is!"

Keldrin kneeled in front of her, checking her pupils. "Hmm. You might be telling the truth...but maybe I didn't get the dosage right." He poured another few drops into her mouth. "One more time, Miss Claven, and you'll have really convinced me." He cracked the whip diagonally across her back again, with speed and fury. "Oh my, I seem to have ruined your dress..." He pulled out a dagger and cut down the back of her dress, the point nicking her already bleeding skin here and there as he carelessly tore through the fabric. He pulled the bloody dress off her and gave it to one of the guards. "Give this to Falathiel. It might convince the wizard." He peered over Torio's shoulders, looking into her eyes. "These lashes will leave permanent scars, you know."

Torio felt tears sting her eyes as her body convulsed against the whip, and then she cried out, agonized frustrated and helpless as the dagger raked down her wounded back. "Luskan always seems to leave...permanent scars." Tears rolled down her cheeks, her back burning with a sharp, aching fire; she gasped when the dress was torn from her, the fabric pulling from her skin. "I don't know," she said, feeling a furious, maddening desire to spill every little secret in her head; she fought it back, but the truth was on her tongue. "By the gods I don't know, you twisted, sick piece of Hosttower filth..."

* * *

Falathiel narrowed her eyes considering... 

A knock on the door. She twitched her head, and one of the guards opened it. Keldrin's guard entered, a familiar bundle of dark blue cloth bunched in his hands. Falathiel took it wordlessly, a slight smile on her lips. "What's this?" She held it up, shaking out the folds of the dress; small droplets of blood splattered on the floor as the strips of cloth remaining where the back of the gown once had been whipped wetly through the air. "It appears our lady has lost her gown; I hear she has a tendency for that, doesn't she?" Seeming to make up her mind, she balled up the dress, tossing it vehemently at Sand's face.

He recognized the blue dress right away and when she unfurled it and Sand saw the tattered, torn condition - the blood dripping down... The sticky, wet dress was tossed at him and he could feel that the fabric was still warmed from her body. "You fiends! What have you done to her?" He strained and struggled, his energy renewed. "I'll kill you all, every last one of you. I will fry you from the inside out!"

"Get him down," she snapped sharply to the guards. "Keep the chains on his wrists." She waited until the guards had Sand slung between them, and then she turned, marching out of the room and heading down the long hall, striding purposefully towards the far door with Sand being dragged behind her.

The stone floor was scraping against his feet, leaving a small trail of blood behind. Every step down the hall and the itching feeling in his mind grew bigger.

_Torio, please, please be alive... _The door at the end of the hall was thrown open and he was hauled into the room.

* * *

Keldrin stepped in front of Torio again and kneeled. He wiped the tears from her cheeks gently. "Hush, Miss Claven. I believe you now, don't be upset." He stroked her hair lovingly. "Shh don't cry." He cradled her head against his shoulder, a mockery of a tender embrace.

_Oh gods...Torio...What have they done to you? _ Sand heart lurched, when he saw the scene before him. Torio, bloodied, crying and being held by that Luskan dirt... "Let her go," Sand said lowly, threateningly to the man holding her. "Or by the gods..."

Keldrin laughed and pulled her even closer. "Or by the gods what? You'll give me angry looks?" He turned to Torio. "He's protective of you, isn't he? How do you feel about him?"

She struggled against him, but she felt his fingers dig into her back, and she cried out, her knees buckling. The pull on her mind tugged, yanked, cajoled, and she shut her eyes against the tears rolling down her cheeks, her jaw set fiercely in anger and shame at her weakness. "I love him," she gasped out. "Nothing matters without him; he saved my life, my soul...he gives me something worth living for, worth living well for." She panted for breath, her head hanging forward under the weight of the nagging pressure of the serum. She had never, ever, dared to even think these thoughts before but now suddenly they were spilling forward onto her tongue from somewhere. And damn all Luskan to Cania, they were the truth. "I love his mind, his words...both sharp and soft...I had forgotten how to laugh, but he reminded me..."

Tears fell in earnest from her eyes, no longer simply from the sting of her back. She felt open, exposed...and not merely because of her bare skin or the ripped flesh on her back. Her mind was pushing a torrent of words at her, demanding she say everything, spill everything, and she fought it, her teeth gritting painfully with the effort. "You rot in the hells," she hissed, looking up at Falathiel, her eyes burning with hatred. "You touch him, and I will destroy you..."

Falathial laughed. "Will you? Oh, she's got spirit, she does...I don't think you've been hard enough on the ambassador, Keldrin." She smiled at the human briefly before placing her booted foot on the back of Sand's neck and thrusting down; Sand fell forward onto the floor, her foot pressing against his throat. "Now, I've shown her to you, wizard...where. is. the. map?"

The boot was pressing on his neck, threatening his airway but it wasn't that that caused Sand to lose his breath a moment.

She loved him. And what more, the words were pouring out unabashedly from her mouth, like the tears in her eyes. Torio seemed to be fighting the words every inch of the way, her honesty likely being driven from her from her cruel mistreatment. Sand could, from his vantage point on the ground, see blood droplets falling steady down from her body.

_She loved him._

Sand had never asked for her love, never expected it. He had been happy enough with her company and the fact that she had stopped trying to kill him. But now... He stared at her defeated form. Even if he had ever been anticipating this confession from her, he had never wanted it like this. Not like this. Never like this.

He reached out tentatively with his mind to hers, and then pulled back sharply. Her mind felt like a delicate crystal, clear and transparent, delicate and ready to be shattered.

_What had they done to her? _ He looked at Keldrin and then noticed a small vial filled with milky white fluid. Hemlock truth serum. They were slowly killing her, both in body and mind, and getting their information.

Sand saw red a moment and then forced himself down. "Heal her and let her go and I'll show you where I've hidden it."

Keldrin snorted. "I've been perfectly judicious in my attentions to Miss Claven, Falathial." He waved the map under her nose. "I have a schematic of their precious Crossroad Keep, we have a very interesting and entertaining admission of love, of all things, from her and the truth serum will still be working a while yet. Plenty of time for me to pump her for information; though-" Here he looked at Sand. "I wouldn't mind pumping her for something else."

"Falathiel, may I suggest that you haven't broken your prisoner yet? Look at him, still trying to negotiate! He should learn he is in no position to ask anything of us." He gave Sand a quick kick on the ribs. "Wizard, don't tell me you enjoy this torture?"

Sand gritted his teeth at the burst of pain on his chest. At least with Falathiel, the pain had been magical and brief. But now it was physical and lingering. He tried giving Torio a reassuring look, writhing slightly on the floor from the ache. "Since I've started my relationship with the dear girl here, I have come to redefine pain and torture."

Falathiel glared down at Sand's form. "We will heal her when I have the Scales of the Sphinx in my hands, you miserable dog." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment. "Keldrin, I tire of this; the girl is obviously a distraction for him." She pressed down harder with her boot, grinding her heel against the nape of Sand's neck where the top of his spine hit. She bent down, sinking her fingers into Sand's hair, and yanked his head back up off the floor, twisting her foot viciously. She could hear the pop! as the wizard's shoulder blade snapped under her weight, and she cruelly kicked down. "You wish to negotiate, wizard? How about this for terms? You show me the map, or my lovely friend Keldrin shoves your little ariik gem down our lady Claven's throat? I've never seen a human explode to ash from the inside out, it could be quite interesting to watch."

Sand cried out in pain when Falathiel broke his shoulder. His vision was a swimming haze in front of him, black spots beginning to appear at the edge of his vision. He struggled to maintain consciousness, his breathing halting and ragged. He was so afraid...

And with a start, he realized he was not afraid for himself, but for Torio. He could see Keldrin threatening Torio and the finger of his hands twitched, wanting to cast a spell but feeling totally helpless in this condition. His mind was racing through the furious throbbing of his shoulder. _Think, Sand, think!_ There was no way he could fight them both here like this but if he could get Keldrin and Falathiel separated...

"All right - I hid the map between some loose bricks of some house in some alleyway. I don't know the streets here but I can lead you to it."

Torio attempted a wriggling lunge as she heard Sand's bone snap. She realized with a sinking feeling that the truth serum revealed...among other things… that she really didn't know enough information to be useful. She always suspected she would die young, considering her profession...

But not here. Not in front of him. And her tongue still felt constricted and tight, writhing against her silence; she could blurt out anything, the word to activate the Scales, the fact that her map was a fake, the names of all her secret contacts that fed her and Neverwinter information.

She daren't speak; her thoughts were crowding her, clamoring to be spoken aloud. Her hands were still untied, and she worked one free as she struggled against Keldrin's grip, practically snarling as she bashed her fist across the man's face.

Keldrin reeled back from the blow to his face, the blood gushing from his nose. "You...bitch!" He swung back with the whip, the leather straps catching her across the front. "Guards, hold her tighter or I'll have your heads too!" He grabbed her around the throat, lifting her up slightly off the ground and then pulled her naked hips forward to his groin, rubbing himself between her legs. "Don't make me do it. Don't make me do it and make your elf watch. You know I would - and brag about it all over the Hosttower how I took Ambassador Claven. Maybe that would bring them all down to see you for their turns too."

Torio cried out, agonized and desperate, feeling the whip slash across her stomach. She choked as Keldrin's hands closed around her throat...she felt the guards yank her hands behind her back, holding them. "Find a rope, Private, and make it snappy! Tie her arms again." One of the guards ran from the room. She cringed when she felt her hips yank forward, his cruel fingers digging into her flesh, and she shut her eyes.

Her head was beginning to cloud over thickly; how much serum had he given her? She remembered the assassin's twitching body, her own hand pouring the vile potion down her throat...she could feel the nerves in her spine beginning to prickle with pain. "I'm going to die," she choked out, truthfully, "if you don't give me the antidote." Her voice was gutteral, unfamiliar in her own ears. "And dead is not useful." And she needed to be able to lie, very soon, or else...

Keldrin nodded. "Isn't that the truth, Miss Claven. Isn't that the truth." He sighed. "Let's get your mind off of your impending death. Who are your contacts? What missions have you compromised?"

Sand's pained whimpering floated through the air, tight and ragged. Falathiel's voice soon followed. "Pick him up," she said mildly. Her guards moved forward, pulling Sand upwards without regard to his broken shoulder, and with a twitch of her head, she turned, walking out the door. The guards followed, dragging Sand, as she called over her shoulder, "Try to keep her mostly alive, Keldrin, until we get back, won't you?"

Sand hissed in agony when he was hauled to his feet, his arm hanging limply at his side. He clenched his jaw, fighting to stay coherent. He just needed to get outside the room, away from Keldrin, away from Torio so he could just concentrate...

The hallway stretched before him and Sand closed his eyes, muttering the incantation, quickly, quietly, hoping the guards wouldn't catch on to what he was doing. He was casting _Time Stop_ - a spell which luckily only had a verbal component. Sand felt the familiar stretching and compressing of the material world around him and then when he opened his eyes, everybody was frozen in place.

He didn't know how much time he had. He wriggled himself free from the guards' grasp, falling to the ground. Ignoring the sharp, shooting pain of his shoulder, he leaned over and began untying the cords around his ankles. His fingers felt so clumsy and slow, the ropes around his wrist hampering his movements, the seconds seeming to take eternity. Finally he was free and kicked the cords away from him. He hobbled back into the room, the feeling returning to his legs and feet. He scooped up the locket with the ariik gem and then stood before Torio.

He didn't need to study her to see her pained, desperate expression. Her face had taken on a strange, waxy pallor and her pupils were unnaturally wide. She was dying, from the inside out and his insides twisted, spurring him on. Sand rushed over to the table where the sharp instruments were laid out for display. Picking up a knife, he began sawing through the ropes that held his wrists tight. The hempen cords began splitting until the bindings fell away. He dashed back to Torio, painfully aware of the time draining away, each second taking away a chance at freedom.

He pried her body out of Keldrin's grasp and then stood a moment, eyeing the cruel Luskan. _Time Stop _had certain restrictions, including the inability to harm others or target others with spells...

But not objects.

He cast _Explosive Rune_ on the map of Crossroad Keep in the man's hand. He was almost sorry he would not be witness to the man's surprising and violent end. Sand was rapidly beginning to exhaust his spell list but he needed just a few others to get them out. He cast _Bull's Strength_ on himself and half carried, half dragged Torio into the hallway. He pulled one of the guards cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around her. He nearly made it to the end of the hall when he felt the spell giving out, fading...and then it was over.

* * *

Torio felt her mouth opening, names and locations and contacts pushing up past her throat...

...and then there was a strange, rushing, fuzzy moment where things seemed to press together...

...And then she was suddenly face down over someone's shoulder, a roughly hewn cloak covering her; she could feel it beginning to stick to her as the blood seeped into the cloth. She heard a furious roar, the sound of shifting, confused feet...and a massive explosion that shook the hallway around them. She had no idea what had happened. She didn't care. They were running, running away...

"Map," she gasped out painfully, and she felt Sand's direction shift; they were in a smaller room; she could see Sand's clothing and wands and other small artifacts scattered everywhere across the floor. He bent down, reaching for a belt..._a belt? _

Suddenly, voices could be heard shouting behind them down the hallway in the aftermath of the blast. "Get them!"

Sand carried Torio and the map back into the long hallway, seeing the 4 guards (2 of whom were charred nicely from the _Explosive Rune_) and Falathiel starting to run their way. He could only assume that Keldrin was dead. The Elven female was brandishing the wand in his direction, her eyes shining menacingly with an odd light. "Block your ears, dear girl." He didn't have his component pouch and his spells were limited to those without material aspects...

They had wanted to make them scream, hadn't they?

Sand cast _Wail of the Banshee_ and then turned with Torio, running out of the tower. A supernatural scream shook the air of the tower and one by one their pursuers dropped to the ground, writhing, screaming, dying…

Torio shut her eyes, her head pounding with the jostling as Sand ran. There was a flight of stairs...she felt light headed and woozy, her mind slipping into unconsciousness. The heated prickling along her spine was growing more intense, spreading up her neck and down into her legs. But they were almost free..._free, free, free…_

And then Sand suddenly stopped.

"You've made a bit of a mess upstairs, haven't you?" She recognized that voice...


	13. Chapter 13

**Volume II, Part XIII: Neverwinter's Secrets**

Sand slowly lowered Torio to the ground and then stood in front of her, protectively. "Gweynn. Just a little spilled blood upstairs, nothing you should be surprised about, since you're so fond of spilling it yourself. But it's nothing an _Unseen Servant _spell can't fix. Or... can you not cast that either? Cantrips taxing enough for you?" His mind was racing through his list of spells, trying to come up with something he could cast without his components pouch. Guards were beginning to accumulate behind her. "Step aside or I will kill you."

Torio slid against the floor, her feet still bound together, bleeding out and feeling her nervous system slowly shut down, while that...that _woman_...

Gweynn eyed them coolly. "Pardon me if I claim that you look nothing like something I should be scared of." She lifted a wand, pointing it at Sand. "You could have had it all, wizard," she said evenly. "What are you dying for? A heartless, half-dead Luskan bitch and a city that will deny knowledge of your name as soon as you are discovered within these walls?" She smiled at him coldly. "A shame. I shall regret this, truly. We could have become...close." She flicked the wand, and blast of cold air shot from its tip, slamming into Sand's body.

Sand staggered back, the blast of chilling energy sinking into his chest, making his smarting ribs hurt even further. He gasped for air, but stayed standing over Torio. He put out a hand to steady himself on the nearby wall. "I already have everything I could possibly want." He cast _Finger of Death,_ using the arm that wasn't hanging limply by his side.

Gweynn flew back, slamming into the door behind her, its hinges creaking as she slumped to the ground. The wand fell from her limp fingers, her head lolling forward drunkenly. The guards shouted furiously, launching themselves towards the wizard; one swung his blade towards Sand's head, while the other drew an arrow into his bow, taking a bead on Torio where she lay on the floor.

Sand suddenly wished, for a fraction of a second, that he was human again. Larger, stronger. There was no way he could win this fight against the two guards, as injured as he was. He was hoping something that Gend had taught him had stuck in his mind. Sand threw himself bodily at the archer, knocking him to the ground. He gave a whimper of pain as he landed hard on his broken shoulder, the bone seeming to crunch under him. The other guard's sword swung wide over his head. He could feel the rush of air whizzing past him. Rolling over on his back, still on top of the struggling archer beneath him, he cast the only spell he could immediately think of towards the swordsman: _Magic Missiles._

The archer flailed wildly under Sand's body, momentarily trapped underneath the elf's weight and tangled in his bow. He cursed violently as Sand's _Magic Missiles_ hit the swordsman straight in the groin due to the angle Sand cast it at; the swordsman howled in agony, stumbling backwards and tripping flat over Torio's prone form. The archer managed to get an arm free, and flipped his bow over Sand's head, the taut bowstring catching around the elf's throat as he yanked it backwards, attempting to choke him. Sand eyes bugged out as he struggled to breathe, his one good arm failing under the bowstring, trying to hook his fingers under. Too desperate for fine motor skills, he instead brought his elbow down hard against the man's ribs, hoping the effects of the _Bull Strength_ spell were still good. The guard's breath left his lungs in a whoosh as Sand's elbow slammed into his ribs, and for a moment the man's body lay flaccid under Sand's, the grip on the bow slackening.

Torio's mind shocked back into clarity momentarily as the swordsman stumbled over her and a rush of adrenaline filled her; the guard spilled across the floor next to her body, his hands gripping himself as he howled. The sword clattered near her head...

She twisted, her body screaming in protest, closing her hands around the hilt of the blade; unable to lever herself up with her legs tied together, she merely swung it inches above the floor, aiming for the writhing guard next to her. Torio's swing sliced the swordsman across the arm, a fine spurt of blood falling to the floor. He yelped in pain and then his eyes focus on her. "Not a good move, wench." He rolled over, still hurting, and wrapped his hands around her throat.

For a moment Torio panicked, feeling fingers close around her throat and squeezing. She instinctively writhed, her legs bucking...and slamming once again into the man's groin. She flailed with the sword, trying to catch him again, gasping painfully for breath. The man yelled in pain as her knee connected to his already hurting crotch and his hands slackened their vise-like grip. Torio's sword smacked the man across the ear, broadsided but it was enough to stun him momentarily. Torio let out a desperate cry as she twisted her body, swinging the sword as hard as she could, edge first, into the man's neck.

Sand jerked the bowstring over his head, his broken shoulder on fire. The pain was nauseating - how did those fighters do this? He rolled off the archer and while still lying on the ground, cast _Magic Missiles_ directly into the man's face.

The man jerked, not even able to scream as the magic bolts slammed into his face. His body writhed for a moment as the spell ripped into him, and then he lay still, his features charred and blackened and fixed in a permanent expression of surprise.

Sand looked away from dead face. When annoyed, he had always threatened people with a magic missile to the face; but now that he had actually done it... He never enjoyed killing, especially these poor souls who were probably working for the likes of Gweynn and the Arcane Brotherhood for mere pittance. But, as Torio liked to say, needs must...

He sat up just in time to see Torio sink the blade through the man's neck. She struck the jugular; a crimson arc of blood jetted into the air. Sand watched, fascinated, as the blood spurted out in time to the man's dying pulse. His eyes fell back to Torio. She had a glazed, furious expression, gripping the hilt of the sword as if the world's future hung in the balance.

Certainly it did - _her world_.

Sand would hate to be any person on the other side of her fury. He slowly went over to her. "My dear Torio. It's over." He gently pried the sword from her hands and slowly cut the cords around her ankles. "It's over."

Her fingers resisted for a moment, and then she let go suddenly; she sank back against the floor as she felt the ropes separate and fall away from her ankles. "It's not," she said, her body giving a shuddering jerk, pain lancing through her head. "Antidote. Soon." She rolled over, pushing herself to her feet, her legs moving slowly and with difficulty, one hand clutching the cloak around her body. Her vision swam as she straightened; Sand's face blurred and came into focus and then blurred once again as she blinked at him, her heart heavy. "Any kind...doesn't matter, hemlock's a simple poison. But soon."

Silently, Sand wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her put nearly her entire weight on him. He pressed two fingers to the pulse on her neck. It was erratic, faint... "Ok, dear girl, we're going to get an antidote now." He kept his tone of voice light, soothing but his own heart was beating hard in his chest. He had no idea what he was going to do - what if they ran into more guards, where were they going to find an antidote, how could he carry the very recognizable Torio Claven through the streets, naked, bleeding - without raising a lot of suspicion.

He had no more invisibility spells, had run out of polymorphing spells. He yanked the hood of the cloak over her head and silently prayed to every god and goddess he could think of before descending the long flight of stairs. He couldn't lose her now; not after all that…

The descent down the stairs was made in a haze of color and sound. Torio could feel random, small spasms and twitches race through her body, causing her a misstep here or there. They were approaching a narrow, tall door; she watched almost curiously as Sand pushed it open, and they spilled out into the late afternoon.

They were in a quiet, back street somewhere; the three story tower that rose behind them as Sand pulled her into the shadows lengthening at the side of the street was squat and moldering, looking older than the city itself. She peered out from underneath her hood, trying to think, to recognize a landmark, anything...

"_Hist!_ Here, friends!" A shadow moved on its own accord from down a back alley, beckoning to them.

Sand knew, in a city like Luskan, to run blindly towards a voice in the dark of shadows was a very foolish thing to do and often the last thing you did. But that voice belonged to the first person in a very long time who wasn't trying to kill them. _Outright in any case._

Sand picked up Torio as best he could considering his broken bones and carried her into the shadows. Holding her, he could feel the way her muscles were contracting sickly. Her face was so pale, like chalk; her normally clear gray eyes were bloodshot. "Hang on, my dear. We have friends with us now."

An older man, with gray hair and brown eyes, stepped forward, and quickly took Torio from Sand. "Quickly. Follow me. Your rings called me here." He was surprisingly strong and spry and he led them from alley to alley, occasionally through people's yards, always keeping to the shadows. Sand struggled to keep up, seeing the way Torio's head lolled about. He stopped trying to remember the route and just had to trust him.

The man sudden stopped in front of a paint-chipped, weathered door. He knocked twice sharply, paused and then three more times. The door opened and they entered the safehouse.

The ceiling was low by the door...from where her head hung back over the stranger's arm she could see Sand's head brushing against it as he stepped through. Then it rose above them as they moved swiftly and silently down the stairs, and she closed her eyes..._just for a moment…_

"...found them!! We had a message ready, just in case they broke..."

"...what in the name of..." she heard bottles clattering...she was dropped onto something soft and yielding, hearing the pop of a cork. Her head was tilted back, glassed pressed between her lips, and a thick, viscous liquid slid down her throat. "Steady, girl, steady..."

A younger man stood up, approaching Sand as three other figures dealt with Torio. "You're lucky," he said flatly. "If you were in there any longer, we were going to have to send word to Neverwinter that you had failed." He turned and opened a cupboard, sifting through various colored, grimy looking bottles. "As it stands we still might have to; we've got to get you out of the city, as fast as humanely possible, before the Brotherhood discovers that tower..."

One of the figures by the makeshift bed, a woman, looked over her shoulder at them. "They can't trace that to Neverwinter...to your aliases, maybe," she added, nodding at Sand. "But considering the Couleuvra's don't exist anymore..."

The man began setting out bottles in front of Sand, gesturing. "Healing potions," he said. "You look like you need them." He tossed one, then another, over to the grey-haired man, who caught them and handed them down to Torio; the latter was now sitting up, clutching the cloak around her nakedness, her eyes slightly clearer than before. She took it in shaking fingers, pulling the cork from the top. The grey-haired man chuckled at her quietly as she drank it down. "Interesting to finally meet you in the flesh, Torio Claven," he said. "It's my reports that you get once a week in that Keep of yours, from here at least." He handed her the second bottle as she finished the first. "You're shorter than I would have thought."

The ludicrousness of the comment made her snort in laughter, nearly choking on the potion. _Poisoned, tortured, and nearly discovered...and he's surprised at my heigth._ "Don't let it fool you," she said dryly. Her voice became serious; she met Sand's eyes briefly, before looking over at the young man standing next t him. "What are our options for getting out of the city?"

The healing potion worked wonders. The cracked bones of his shoulder mended and Sand rolled it cautiously. It still ached and he had to wonder if it would ever be the same again, but he was alive and it was healed. Sand pulled out a nearby chair and collapsed into it, relieved when Torio sat up. She still looked like she had marched through the hells. He could see the scourge marks across her front and he flinched in sympathy. The wounds would heal, but would she? "I think we killed everyone who saw us as Sand and Torio, and not the Couleuvra's. No fear, Neverwinter's secrets are safe once again." He was bitter and it showed.

The young man sat down at the table across from Sand. "You are tired and have gone through a great deal. I do not begrudge you your words." He leaned forward. "Ideally we would like to get you out by the gates but that is riskier than necessary and certainly doomed to fail." He tapped his fingers on the table and then glanced at Torio. "I propose this. Wait a few days, rest, heal. Talk to us, tell us what happened and what you have learned. Do you have the map?"

Sand nodded, and tossed the belt onto the table. "Polymorphed, my friend. They never suspected it."

The young man's face broke out into a wide grin. "Clever! I can see why Nasher picked the two of you. Can you activate it for me?"

Sand waved his hand over the belt, dispelling the magic. The leather belt shrunk to less than half its length and then stretched out flat, back into the tawny golden blank hide. He tapped the hide with his finger. "Lethoveruminum."

Faint silvery lines appeared from the hide, like running quicksilver. A rough outline of the city of Luskan formed and then little specks materialized, moving about the streets, with miniature names following them about. Sand scanned the hide until - there - he saw hidden in a small square, several unmoving dots... the names Sand and Torio, stationary...

The young man politely but firmly pulled the map from Sand. "Thank you. We will return it to Neverwinter. Probably after today, you never want to look at another map."

Torio could feel the shredded skin on her back knitting back together, and glanced down. The marks across her flattened stomach were pale white against the smoothness of the rest of her skin; she didn't even want to look at her back. "Hmph," she said. "Not to ruin the seriousness of the moment, but I would be eternally grateful if anyone had an extra set of clothes? I think I've been naked enough these last two days as it stands."

The woman gently took her arm and helped her off the bed. "Follow me, we'll get you something. And places to sleep, I'm sure you're both exhausted." She gave a sharp look to the younger man pointedly, before drawing Torio into a side room. The entire structure seemed small and confined, and there was barely enough room for the both of them in the small storage room as the woman rummaged around through piles of clothing. Torio gazed around; there was food, dried and jarred, on the shelves, kegs of ale and water, papers, ink, quills, books, shoes, weapons...anything that a spy might need was stashed in haphazard organization around the small storage room.

She turned back to the woman, only to have a handful of cloth shoved into her hands. "Nothing as fine as what Nasher supposedly gave you for your mission," she said quietly, "But it'll cover you." She gave Torio a long, considering look, before turning and leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

Torio shook out the nondescript clothing; a tunic and trews, a belt. She felt her lip curling wryly as she slipped into them, belting the tunic around her waist tightly. _No Proskurian silk to rip here_. She felt a wash of nausea suddenly take her, and she pressed her forehead against the wall for a moment. _She had said... _She couldn't believe what she had said. She had never even thought...hadn't considered it for a moment, that she was even _capable_...But then the words had come spilling out like a virtual torrent and she hadn't been able to stop them…

What was she going to do? She couldn't afford this type of liability; neither of them could, especially if Nasher intended to continue using them...using _her_...on dangerous missions. It was a weakness and a luxury and ultimately completely dangerous. _Damn this entire mission to the hells._ She opened the door, stepping back out into the room, her head buzzing painfully.

Both Sand and the young man looked up when Torio re-entered the room. Sand gave her a small smile. "Why my dear girl, I don't believe I have ever seen you in pants before. And with your short hair, you almost look like a boy." His tone was jesting, but his blue eyes were trained on her, steady.

The older spy laughed and gave her a kind, grandfatherly smile. "Well worse comes to worse, we dress her up as a boy and send you both on your way. The last thing the Hosttower would suspect would be Torio Claven as a male!"

The younger spy looked back at them. "Luskan is the City of Sails for a reason. A ship will be your best bet out of here. We will contact a mercenary who works for us on occasion and see if he can't smuggle you out on his next run out to sea." He stood. "If there is nothing else, I would recommend getting some rest. There's the bed here, and we can find a bedroll and put it in the storage room. You both did very well - better than many a veteran spy would have done. I will be sure to impress that fact upon Lord Nasher. We all owe you a world of debt and gratitude."

The older spy walked into the storage room and laid out a simply bed roll, blankets and pillows. "Sand, I hope you don't mind sleeping in here and giving Torio the bed. I think she's had the worst of it."

Sand rubbed his eyes. As soon as they were gone, he would be in her bed with her anyway. He needed sleep. Badly. But there was so much that needed to be said. "Oh no, of course not. I would never think to take the bed from her. She probably wouldn't let me have it without a fight anyway. But...thank you for coming to find us. We owe you our lives."

The spies in the room smiled quietly and then departed, closing the door behind him. They were finally alone, and for the moment, safe.

Torio felt the expanse of room stretch between them as they looked at one another for a long moment. He was standing in the doorway to the storage room, watching her. She simply turned and walked towards the bed, avoiding his eyes and pulling the blankets back. "See if you can bring that pillow in from the bedroll," she said lightly. "There's only one here." She moved towards the small, narrow staircase; the air felt thick, heavy around her as she stood on her toes, reaching up towards the oil lanterns burning gently on the wall and turning them down.

Sand obediently picked up the extra pillow and watched her move across the room. Her footsteps carried an added weight to it that had not been there before, either from exhaustion or pain or something else entirely...

He lay the pillow down next to hers on the narrow bed and waited for her to approach him. He suddenly felt unsure. He had given her up to Asrar; gods only knew what had happened between them (though Sand remembered with disquiet that she had drunk the pink potion quite willingly). Then she had...

She had told him that she loved him while being tortured and under the influence of a poisonous truth serum. He took a small step towards her, hesitating, then held out his arms for her.

She looked at him for a long moment. It felt difficult just to draw in a breath. There was too much that happened in the last few days; the easiness between them that they had gained on the road to Luskan now seemed miles away.

_And yet..._She walked forward, sliding her arms around his neck; she buried her face against his shoulder, hugging him fiercely, her body loosening wearily as she sank against him. For the first time in 24 hours, she wasn't clinging to him for support, for cover, or for an impromptu invisibility spell, and she sighed, her arms holding him close.

When she hugged him, he thought his heart was going to burst. He inhaled - underneath the blood, sweat, dirt, damp and fading desperation, he could smell her again - books and candles. He pulled her onto the bed, not letting go of her for an instance, an irrational fear in the back of his mind that if he let her go, she'd fade away and dissipate somehow in the darkness. He awkwardly tried to tuck them both in. The bed was small and the only way the both of them to fit was if he held her firm to his body.

Not that he minded. He wondered briefly what the spies would say if they came down and saw them like this.He quietly sent her a message. _Dear girl, are you all right?_

She shifted downwards somewhat, laying her head against his chest. The blankets were coarse, rough against her chin as Sand managed to wriggle them up around them. _Yes, _she thought at him. _I'm fine, now._ She stroked his chest absently. "You?" she asked quietly. "I didn't see how many potions they had...your shoulder...?" Insensibly she turned her face, pressing her mouth against his shoulder. After a moment, she whispered, "Do you think Nasher is going to keep asking us to perform these missions? Being successful is well and good, but..." She trailed off, looking up at his face.

Sand began stroking her hair and then tracing his finger along the back of her neck. She was so warm. "My shoulder will be all right in time, Helkaer. You were a bigger concern anywhere. You really did give us quite the fright." He kissed her forehead.

"Knowing Nasher, I can safely say that one successful mission will only lead to being sent on another until..." He left the words unspoken. "I went from being a lowly informant in the Docks, to serving as main counsel to the Knight Captain - which by the way, dear girl, I think is now a blessing in disguise since it led to you ultimately landing in my lap - to companion in the fight against the King of Shadow to full-fledged spy for Neverwinter. It would not surprise me, my dear Torio, if next he would ask that I serve on the Nine or some such nonsense." He sighed and squeezed her.

Her voice was wry. "Rather directly in your lap, I would say." She nuzzled his neck, her thoughts troubled. Would Nasher reward them when they returned? She wriggled her wrist momentarily, feeling the bracelet shift slightly..._Was it even worth it?_

She had had her very heart torn from her and thrown out into the open...she'd had her body used and broken and her mind violated. _You have a bed, with Sand still in it, and you're still alive, and it's over...for now._ Almost over.

She kissed his neck lightly. "If being one of the Nine means taking Nevalle's job, that might actually mean you would get to stay back in Neverwinter all the time." She couldn't help the wry smirk twisting her mouth. "Polishing Nasher's sword."

He made a small, happy noise when she kissed his neck. Then he snorted at her comment about Nevalle. "Taking Nevalle's job? I may as well take away his reason for living, or castrate him or kick helpless puppies in front of him for fun. The poor man wouldn't know what to do with himself after." Sand shifted his body slightly, getting comfortable and then said, "I think I would much rather face a Shadow Reaver than...polish Nasher's sword. The latter is decidedly much more unpleasant."

Sand closed his eyes but continued speaking. "More days in Luskan. Probably hiding in this hole and being questioned about our experiences." He remembered his naive thoughts about this mission being like a 'holiday'. "Our experiences in Luskan have been lousy thank you very much. May we have a refund?"

"I am not one for revenge, dear girl," said Sand and he opened his eyes to face her. "But I will admit, I did derive a certain amount of pleasure from killing Keldrin."

She stared at him for a moment, her face inches from his; her eyes flashed darkly. "I don't blame you," she said quietly. "When I..." She paused, remembering how Orban had died with a satisfactorily surprised look on his face. "I don't blame you," she merely repeated. Her mouth curled in a dark smile. "But I, however, _am_ one for revenge, so probably not the best lady to ask." She cringed mentally at the thought of reliving the entire experience over again while they were relaying their information to Nasher's spies. "We…only have to tell them what's necessary," she said carefully.

Sand gave her a questioning look when she censored herself but did not press the matter onward. She would speak to him when she was ready, he supposed. "Yes, we will keep our debriefing strictly business. I doubt they would care about the more personal aspects of what we had to do to accomplish the goals so much as the fact we had."

She shut her eyes, curling against him, and kissed him lightly. "Maybe we can fake illness the next time a mission is pressed upon us." She nestled against him wearily.

He pulled her closer. "Fake an illness? Why fake it when I have spells to give us real, temporary sicknesses? Only the best for you, dear girl. Why don't you sleep now? You need to regain your strength and I need to refresh my memory."

She snorted, stifling a yawn. "I appreciate the offer for authentic illness, I'm sure." She huddled down and shut her eyes, feeling sleep creep up on her even as she murmured drowsily, "Saved my life again, Bodaes...what would I do without you..." She was almost instantly asleep, her fingers curled lightly against his chest from where they had been stroking him, her body relaxing in one, deep exhale as she sank into unconsciousness.

Sand waited until he was absolutely certain she was asleep, waiting until her breathing had become regular, the drawn muscles of her faced relaxed and her eyes began flickering in a dream. He pressed his lips to her forehead, his eyes tightly shut and breathed out, "Amin mela lle." _I love you_.

Sand sighed at having finally said the words; they had been tickling the back of his tongue for days now. Even if she was asleep and didn't hear...it was probably better that way in any case. He wasn't ready to think more about it, or to let her know just as he was certain she hadn't been ready to disclose her feelings to him. He would merely pretend she hadn't said anything and would wait until she told him of her own free will. This was an arrangement with himself with which he could live.

There was a click and the far door opened. The woman stepped back through the door and her eyes widened at the sight of Sand holding Torio in one bed. He lifted his head and pressed a finger to his lips. She nodded and approached with the stealthy grace of a rogue and knelt by the bed.

"Floor not comfortable enough for you?" Her eyes were shining. "I just came back to see if she was sleeping all right... she went through a lot...Sometimes people don't sleep well afterwards."

Sand shook his head slightly, "The floor was fine; the bed is preferable. I...ah...just wanted to comfort her as she fell asleep for those very reasons. I hope this won't be a problem?" He gave her a meaningful look.

She gave him a small smile of understanding, "Not at all, Sand. People can become close on these missions. It is not unheard of but I understand the need for discretion. I'll warn the others away from the room until you are ready for the waking world." She patted his hand and left, locking the door.

Sand sighed, closed his eyes and fell asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

_This story is Part X of the Series and is rated M for graphic scenes of sexuality, and nudity._

**Volume 2, Part XIV: Of Such Small Things Are Loyalty Made**

Torio was dead to the world; there was no concept of time passing, just utter blackness; when she finally opened her eyes again, she hadn't even moved. She still sank against the mattress and Sand's body the same way she had before...

_Before when? How long have I been asleep?_ She shifted carefully, barely depressing the mattress as she sat up; Sand made no move next to her. She craned her neck, trying to get a glimpse of the candles scattered around the room. Almost morning. The wax nubs were nothing more than melted piles of goo, flames flickering over them weakly. She rubbed her eyes; she felt sticky and overly warm, her head pounding slightly as she moved, but at least the latent exhaustion was gone from her limbs. She delicately slid off of the bed, eyeing Sand carefully; he made some insensible noise and shifted, falling into the indent in the mattress left by her body, settling deeper into sleep.

She turned, tiptoeing through the small structure; one door revealed a small, cramped privy, another revealed a room with a large tin barrel, half fill with fresh water. The last door, hardly more than a hinged hole in the wall, revealed a smallish cubby room with a round tin bath, a brazier with coals, and a few large, flattened rocks.

She still had dried blood caking her skin beneath her clothing; the dust and dirt of the tower's dungeon; Orban's touch...She shuddered and quickly began moving silently between the water barrel and the tin bath, filling it with clear, cold water. She lit the coals on the brazier with one of the candles and placed the rocks across it, heating them up. As she waited, she peeled off the clothing and examined her body, running her fingers across the marks on her stomach; the skin puffed out, rough against her fingers.

Tentatively, she ran a hand behind her, touching her back, and nearly flinched at the spiderweb work of rough, edged skin that met her touch. _A souvenir, I suppose. _

She carefully picked up the heated rocks, sucking in a sharp breath as she balanced them back and forth on her fingers before dropping them into the tub. The water hissed, and after a moment she stepped in, sighing in relief as the heat enveloped her. She began scrubbing at herself, hard but slow, rubbing every last trace of Luskan off of her skin.

* * *

When Sand awoke, the first thing he noticed was that Torio was gone. He sat up in a panic and stumbled out of his bed, his eyes darting around the room. She was nowhere to be seen. It was morning; apparently they had slept away the entire evening and night.

He had no idea how long she had been gone. Cautiously, he went to the storage room and peeked in, then began opening the other doors, each door that didn't reveal Torio fueling his anxiety. She couldn't be gone - he had just found her!

Last door - and she was there, sitting in a bath scrubbing herself raw until her skin was red. The relief he felt was palpable. "Oh, I'm sorry for interrupting, dear girl. I was just...wondering where you were."

Torio jumped only slightly when Sand spoke, pushing the short, wet clumps of hair out of her eyes. Seeing him made her entire body run cold, and then indescribably hot; she paused in her scrubbing, examining his face; it looked slightly worried, relief evident in his voice.

"Where would I run off to?" She asked, lightly. "Into the streets of Luskan?" She chuckled and shifted onto her knees, bending her head down into the water, and scrubbing out her hair, her heart pounding. "I'll be finished in a moment, Bodaes," she said over the splashing noises. "You probably need one, as well."

"I probably do but don't hurry on my account." Sand stripped down and wriggled himself into the small bath in front of her, grinning. "We can certainly share." The water was only lukewarm, the bath barely fitting the both of them; there was only simple washing soap and none of the Seven Sails' fancy oils and creams. He felt himself begin to harden at being naked with her again but he quietly pushed the arousing thoughts out of his mind. He would let her come to him when she was ready. "Here, dear girl, let me get your back..."

She stifled a laugh at the ludicrous way they were rather squished together...

...oh, but how she had missed seeing his smooth, angular, elven body... Sand as a human was still delectable...but it hadn't been Sand...

She paused for a moment, wiping water from her face, watching him. "All right," she said a little anxiously, and turned around, settling her hips between his legs. Would he think she was still attractive? Her skin had been so perfect...she remembered how his mouth had trailed up her back in the past, the image he had fed into her mind in the carriage of her smooth-skinned flesh...

She leaned forward, feeling his thighs pressing against her sides; she exhaled slowly, huddling against her knees, and waited, biting her lip nervously.

Sand could feel her anxiety tugging at the back of his mind. He slowly ran his hand down her back, across the crisscrossing faint white scars. He traced the maze of barely healed flesh with his fingers tenderly. He leaned forward and kissed her between her shoulder blades before wrapping his arms around her small body and pulled her to him in a fierce embrace. "Lle naa vanima."_You are beautiful._ "I'll find a way to remove these scars, Torio. I will." He was surprised at the choking intensity of his voice and he held her, rocking her slightly in the warm water.

She leaned back against his body, his skin relatively warm compared to the slowly cooling bathwater. She felt completely enveloped; his legs bent slightly, rising on either side of her, and she leaned her head back against his shoulder. "Are you going to move all of Faerun while you're at it, Sand?" she asked quietly; but her mouth twitched in a smile, and she turned her head, pressing her lips against his neck.

There was a soft, fuzzy moment where her head buzzed as her lips touched his skin; her skin felt slightly raw where she had furiously scrubbed at it, and it tingled warmly where it pressed against his body.

She slid a hand up to the other side of his face, holding his head still as she kissed his neck; she felt a dull, thrumming ache in her chest as she tasted his skin; his skin, not Tanith Cloulevra's or Orban Asrar's or anyone or anything else.

He relaxed and closed his eyes. "Move all of Faerun? My dear girl, I would move all of Toril if you asked it of me. I look forward to the challenge of such a request." He began stroking the skin of her stomach and with a pang realized she was marked there as well. Gods, Keldrin had been so cruel and so very Luskan. How could it have been that she seemed to have taken the brunt of their vindictiveness? The whole city must have been crying out for Garius' - and her - blood after their scheme had been revealed.

"All of Abeir-Toril, is it? I might ask you to do that; I'd be curious to see how you'd accomplish it." She reached up, brushing his hair off of his forehead, dripping little droplets of water across his face; her free arm tighten around his, hugging his arm to her.

Sand picked up a washcloth and began slowly and gently soaping down her back, washing away the crimson layer. "A really big magical lever?" He cringed at the bad joke. "Can I take that back? I'm afraid that wasn't up to par to my usual cunning wit."

Torio snorted with laughter as she leaned forward, letting Sand work the washcloth over her back. "A really big magical lever," she repeated. "Oh no. There'll be no taking that back, Sand. I'll have to write it down...scribe it?" She shifted slightly so her could reach her lower back, and glanced back at him over her shoulder. "Engrave it, maybe?"

Her next indrawn breath shook into her lungs raggedly; she felt solidly anchored, with his arms around her body, and she shifted slightly, her backside brushing against the metal floor of the tub and the slow, steady hardness between Sand's legs as she inched her face forward again and licked the clinging droplets of water from Sand's neck. "Eller naa n'at sol tanya ant caelol, vee' eithel, bodaes." _There are other things that need healing, as well_.

"Sael shi shor caer saes oli pae eir ei sosti, Helkaer." _Then we will heal them one day at a time_. He leaned forward even as she kissed his neck and began gently kissing her shoulder.

Torio shivered as his lips touched her skin. She felt her heart give a little sigh; it was things like this, she figured wryly, that had caused her uninhibited mind to blurt out feelings she hadn't even realized she'd had. His words were uncharacteristically kind...she sighed against his neck, nuzzling him.

_Of such small things are loyalties made._ He had said that before. Maybe it made more than loyalty.

"One day at a time," she said quietly. "I suppose I could manage that."

The elf rinsed out the cloth and continued wiping down her back. "And...as for us...it's up to you." He left the comment purposefully vague, for her to answer or ignore as she saw fit.

She bent her head forward when he spoke again, her heart pumping nervously. She had never felt this damned vulnerable before in her life; she wasn't positive that she liked it. She reached up, squeezing the water from her short hair, her fingers massaging her head for a moment. "Sand," she said quietly after a moment; she focused on the small, slight movements against her back. "I..." She swallowed, took a breath; she felt the warmth of his body sitting in the water behind her, let out a sigh...lost her courage. _What would you say to him? I love you?_ "I'd never ask anything of you." She shrugged her slender shoulders. "I would merely wish to continue in your company..." Her voice lightened considerably as she said, "...as per our agreement, of course."

Sand's hands only paused for a fraction of a second when she spoke, betraying his surprising disappointment. "You don't have to ask for something I'd freely give. And I don't give much freely, I'll have you know." He tried to make the last phrase light and joking but his heart wasn't into it. "Very well, dear girl," he said. "As per our agreement. I am beginning to think that contract is more binding than Nasher's."

He examined her back. Clean at least. Seeing the scars still made his heart clench painfully. "You realize we may have to change the terms of the agreement. I left Vale's ring at the tower...They'll have to either re-enchant the bracelet or remove it entirely. We should have them remove it. I think you've proven your trustworthiness. And paid for it dearly."

Torio half-turned in the tub sharply, her hands gripping the edges...the water sploshed around their bodies noisily for a moment as she stared hard at him. "Would he...you think they would?" For a moment a shrewd look entered her eyes...she tapped her fingers against the tub, chewing her lip while she thought. Working for Neverwinter... Well, technically she already was. She'd almost died for the city.

Her eyes snapped to his face, a strange, hungry light in them. "Freely given, is it?" She said quietly. She shifted all the way around, crawling her hands forward along the tub until her face was inches from his. "Yes, I know you don't give much freely...you'd hardly budge an inch if it suited you, you caustic, stubborn elf." She pressed her mouth against his roughly, plunging her tongue into his mouth without warning; her insides burned fiercely underneath her skin, but not just with passion. "So what," she said against his mouth, "Are you freely offering, then, viper?"

Torio was on him so quickly that all he could respond was with a muffled, "Mmph!" He pulled her closer to him, the water spilling over the edge of the tub. "Snake! You lull me into a sense of comfort and security and then you attack." Her short wet hair was sticking up in all directions, giving her a slightly wild and feral (some may have even described it as crazy) look. Her eyes were boring into his eyes, the pupils dilated. He pulled her back in for another kiss, his skin heating up under her presence. "What am I freely offering you? The only thing I can - me." He paused. "Would that satisfy you? A caustic, stubborn elf, with magical skill, limited patience for the boorish, and a weakness for wine and books. You must take this elf as is, seeing as how he has sustained some damage -" Here Sand rolled his mended shoulder. "But it's a great deal, let me assure you. I come with a lifetime guarantee."

Torio slid her hands around the edge of the tub until she gripped the edge behind Sand's back, pulling her knees up along side his hips. His body felt suddenly hot as she pressed against him, much warmer than his normal skin temperature. "Hmmm," she said, turning her head slightly as she considered his face inches below her. "A lifetime? And what makes you think you'd survive another forty years with me?" She began kissing him intermittently between words; her heart hammered against her ribs, sending her blood rushing through her so fast she almost felt light-headed. "We shall have to see if you do, won't we? Starting now? Oh don't worry, my magically skilled, slightly damaged elf, I have faith in you." Her voice was lilted with slight mockery...but her eyes were bright and intense as she stared down at him.

She kissed him fully, her arms encircling his neck; her body was shaking slightly as she felt his skin slip against hers under the water. "A great deal, indeed," she muttered against his lips.

She was seducing him with her maddeningly playful words; her voice though had a strange, dangerous, almost desperate tinge he had never heard before. It made his heart skip a beat and the adrenaline was shooting through him. For the first time, Sand was nervous as to what she had in mind.

"I didn't say whose lifetime it was; if you choose to use and abuse this elf then that is your prerogative and liability if you wear him out into an early death." He kept his tone professional, lawyerly-like even as he slowly began nudging her legs open. His arms went automatically under her arms to hold her upper back. "He has already started to suffer from sleep deprivation since meeting you. But...your faith is appreciated." His blue eyes met hers. "I'm telling you, take this offer, dear girl. It only comes once every few hundred years. You won't regret it."

Torio's eyes narrowed shrewdly...she settled her weight onto his lap, feeling him press up between her legs, his length hardening against her even as she spoke. "A few hundred years, is it?" She bent her head, kissing along his jawline. "What a rare opportunity; I suppose I'll have to take it." She could feel his chest pushing her own breasts flat, could feel their stomachs brush together under the water (which was sloshing about dangerously thanks to their antics). The tip of her nose found the upswept curve of Sand's ear...his pointed ear...and she traced the edge of its elegant shell, breathing lightly into it and whispering, "Tell me, do I get any perks with this deal?"

He fought to keep his breathing steady, his tone detached. "Perks? I believe...ah...I believe you're sitting on one of them." His eyes rolled back in pleasure. He had forgotten what having Elven ears meant, how much he had missed them during his stint as a human. His fingers tightened their hold on her.

"You are also assured trust, loyalty, affection, earth-shattering lovemaking and all the healing potions you can drink!" His fingers trailed down her spine, to her backside, then slipped around to the V of where her legs met her body. It was tremendously awkward, but Sand slipped his fingers along her folds, searching, until he found the small engorged swelling of flesh. "What other perks would you require before we seal this deal?"

She began nibbling on his ear as he spoke, her eyes rolling shut. Trust, loyalty, affection... "I suppose I could...accept...oh gods..." His fingers had wriggled between their bodies and were now touching the sensitive nub between her legs; she twitched at the barest of touches, gasping into his ear. "What did you want in return...oh Sand." Her body was in a frenzy, suddenly coming completely alive at his touch; the deadened, heavy feeling that had plagued her ever since walking into Orban's mansion suddenly lifted, and she rubbed her hips against him, the water churning between their bodies.

With his free hand, Sand cupped the back of her head and pulled her face to his, kissing her passionately. "I want nothing in return, Torio - hence freely given. If you choose not to give me anything return, I can accept that."

He inhaled sharply as she began slithering up against him, the water making both their bodies totally slippery. Her face suddenly seemed to brighten, her body infused with a spirit he hadn't seen since he had found her at Asrar's. His erection was pressed painfully between them, the water adding a new dimension of sensuality to the experience. "Take me. I meant what I said in the carriage all those days ago about being yours."

Torio held his face in her hands; her hips lifted, the strain of his erection lifting his shaft upward as she pulled her weight off of him. Her lips found his mouth, the bridge of his nose, his eyes, his forehead; she shifted slightly, positioning herself over him, and slowly slid down over his length. Her knees pressed down against the bottom of the tub, the smooth, hard metal a sharp contrast to the smooth skin that brushed along the inside of her thighs as she pulled him into her body.

As her hips fused completely against his, she whispered, "Freely given or not, viper...I want you to say it." Her mouth found his, but she held it back, her eyes half-hooded and staring into his. "Say that you want me...I want to hear it coming from your mouth." She took his bottom lip briefly between hers, nipping it gently and releasing it. "Tell me."

Sand closed his eyes and then opened them slowly, his blue eyes dark. "I want you, Torio Claven. I want you in which ever capacity you are willing to give to me - friend, confidant, lover or wi-" He bit off the last word and blinked. He nuzzled her, hoping to hide the slip of his tongue. It would have been a nice dramatic little word at the end of his sentence but they were still barely past the hatred stage. It would have been too soon for such thoughts.

He tried thrusting his hips against her and realized it was quite impossible from his seated position. "I want you so much, dear girl, if you'll let me have you." He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and returned the tender bite. "Please?"

Torio felt her eyes widen imperceptibly in surprise; Sand was rubbing his cheek against hers, biting off his sentence. She opened her mouth, but then he pulled back and caught her lip in his teeth, and she let out a small, ragged moan.

She wordlessly kissed him, removing her arms from around his neck; they were rather confined, and her legs pressed in against his almost painfully in the small metal tub. She gripped one side each of the tub with her hands, and slowly lifted herself up, drawing his length vertically as she rose off of his lap...and then sank down again, pushing her hips down against his with a satisfactory displacement of water. She whispered against his mouth, in a parody of that afternoon in the carriage so many days ago, "I'm yours." She could hardly tell how much of her she actually meant was his; he had her coiled tightly around his capable little finger and she knew it. And she loved it.

_...and she loved...?_

She slowly began thrusting against him, pushing up against the tub with her hands, her pace unhurried and languid. For a moment a ludicrous thought crossed her mind..._Again, Bodaes...a perfectly capable bed and yet we do not use it for its intended purpose_. She sighed in pure blissful pleasure as she felt the entire front of her body run up and down against his, the water splashing gently against her skin.

"You're mine," he whispered quietly, satisfied, not needing anything else. Sand let his head fall back against the edge of the small, cramped tub, sinking slightly beneath the rapidly cooling water as she casually began sliding up and down his hardened shaft.

_Helkaer - save the bed for when we're back at the Keep and confined to our rooms..._

It was true. They would soon be back at the Keep and back to pretending they hated each other. Sand had to admit they probably fought a lot less compared to other couples simply because publicly they were always fighting.

His hands wandered to her face, touching her cheeks before moving down to her full breasts, her hips, her whole body. It was all his. "Oh gods, Torio..." The realization that she had both nearly died, that they were still in danger but they were still alive finally dawned fully on him. He sat up suddenly, the water splashing onto the floor and wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his head to her chest, his ear over her heart, listening to the steady beating of her warm life. He squeezed her tight and then began guiding her motion up and down along his length.

"Sand..." Her head tilted back, her eyes half-shutting, focusing on the low-ceiling above them. She felt the crooks of his elbows around her waist, his hands pressed against her lower back, the fingers barely brushing the top of her backside; his pointed, elegant ear rested between her breasts, and for a moment, as she tilted her head and looked down at the top of his, she could see the long lashes of his eyes and the tilt of his nose, pressed against her flesh. A wave of sharp, painful tenderness shot through her, and she moved with the guiding motions of his hands, quickening her pace slightly; she shifted her knees forward slightly, holding him possessively between her legs and down-jutting her hips against his, hearing the rhythmic splashing in time with their movements.

She released the tub with one hand, running it up the back of his neck; her fingers delved into his hair, holding him to her. She bent her head down and pressed her lips against the top of his head, inhaling deeply...dormant magic, barely there, and a much stronger smell of soap... She held against her body, pushing her hips against his over and over, the fingers still holding the tub gripping the edge so tightly that she was white-knuckled within moments. Her muscles shivered, stretched, constricted; she gasped out, "A'mael..." _Beloved_.

Sand could feel her tightening further and further around him. Her heart was racing, he could hear it deep inside her chest, hear her breathing, hear her voice and feel that she was here, alive, with him. His mouth began kissing her breast, which bounced with each one of her firm thrusts, his lips moving lightly over her damp skin. Torio's tunnel was engulfing him wholly; his hands urged her on, faster, his hard member burrowing deeper and deeper inside her.

He raised his hips in response to hers, the water splashing up between them, and over his shoulders. He could feel the way his hair fanned out behind him in the cool bathwater. He pushed her down all the way, as low as she could go in the tub and held her there, savoring for a moment the warmth of her walls compared to the cold of the water. The contraction of his shaft was steadily increasing...

And then she cried out "A'mael!" Her voice thick, longing - but it was colored with unclad emotions which burned through his mind. He could feel the warm, kind thoughts of her mind - so foreign compared her usual cold crispness - and it settled over him like a blanket. He exhaled irregularly, "Melamin." _My love_ …and he pushed himself as far in as possible, her whole body seeming to take in his engorged organ.

His back tensed with a conspicuous shudder of pleasure and then he bucked, the orgasm exploding from the middle of him and spreading outward. "Oh gods, my gods...girl..." It seemed everything in the room - him, Torio, the water - was quivering with him as he writhed inside her, ejaculating his hot fluid into her hot centre. He threw his head back, his mouth open, a slight frown on his face as his shaft emptied itself. His mind reverberated from the climax and every thought, memory, feeling, image from the past few days flashed through it

_...fighting her in front of Gend, knife to each other's throats...coupling in the carriage...watching Torio stand by Asrar's side and the ugly pang of jealousy...punching the wall...collapsing to the floor...flying over the city...the pain - oh so much pain - from Falathiel..._

And then the absolute horror of seeing Torio's bloodied and torn dress. That memory seemed to parade through him slowly before the memory of being dragged in front of her flashed through him and the sheer ache of seeing her like that... then he was cradling her, running - the mute terror of trying to get out, trying to keep her alive, the helplessness of not having a potion on him... then he was holding her in the bed, his lips pressed against her forehead, whispering quietly...

Sand's eyes snapped open and he sagged in the tub, nearly slipping under the water, feeling mentally, physically and emotional drained and yet utterly satiated.

Torio was nearly rocketed fully out of the tub when Sand's body bucked upwards against hers; she gasped, feeling his member pulse and push indescribably deep inside of her body, the tip rubbing erratically inside of her as he spilled his essence. She released her hold on him, gripping the sides of the tub painfully tight and holding on for dear life as her muscles contracted, released, and then tightened again in a long, drawn out climax, her hips pushing against his in a staccato rhythm as her entire body shook.

Images, thoughts, scatters, flashed through her mind; she caught snippets of the torrent that barraged Sand's thoughts; his face was contorted with agonized ecstasy below her, his fingers digging into her back; she saw flashes of her own face as Nagendra, a flash of a knife blade, a wash of senseless jealousy and painful misery, and fear...so much fear and pain that adrenaline shot through her body like the crack of a whip, sending her heart racing and her breath gasping as if they were running, running once again...

_...a cacophony of emotions, sounds, images, and her body was shot with a bolt of sheer bliss as her climax began to ebb and she felt Sand's lips against her forehead, brushing against her hair and whispering..._

And then she fell forward, her arms shaking and trembling and unable to hold herself up anymore. Sand was sagging against the back end of the tub, his body completely flaccid as she splashed across his chest, gasping for breath, leaning on him and entirely unable to move. The small room was filled, for a moment, with nothing but the sound of settling water splashing against the sides of the tub...(she was amazed there was even water left with how much had ended up being tossed over)...and their breathing, sharp and heavy and then slowly quieting down.

After a long quiet moment, Sand opened his eyes and looked at Torio and then around the poorly lit, poorly furnished room. How much of his thoughts had she seen? He found he didn't really care during this sweet afterglow and kissed her neck, the sweat and bathwater sticking to his lips. The air in here was humid and warm but the water was now cold and Sand shivered. He kissed her fingertips, noticing the way they were wrinkled. "All right, dear girl. I better get you out of this water before you completely turn into an Amnish prune. I loathes prunes, by the way."

Torio rested against him for a moment, her chest tight. An echo, barely a flicker; for a moment she was in the tub and simultaneously on the bed in Sand's memory, and she could hear the fading whisper in the back of his head..._Amin mela lle_...

Her fingers clenched against his body for a moment; he was talking, saying something about loathing prunes. She lifted her head, water dripping from the ends of her hair. Her mouth twisted in an amused smile for a moment, her eyes inordinately bright, before she pushed herself up to her feet, water cascading off of her in a whoosh! "Then the heavens forbid I ever look like one, Bodaes." She shook out her hair, sending water droplets flying; some landed with a _hissssss_ on the still smoldering brazier, and she stepped from the tub, flicking water from her feet. "I'll see if I can find us towels to dry us off. Or a blanket...or a small animal of some kind, I'm sure this place has them in droves." Her voice was clipped and sarcastic, but her steps were light as she pulled open the smallish door and walked to the storage room, dripping a wet trail after her.

She peeked into the main room; still no sign of the spies returning, even though it must be dawn by now. She crept into the storage room and started ruffling through the various items; she found two, long, rather worn looking towels that didn't match and looked as if said small animals had been chewing on their edges for quite some time. She made a noise of distaste in the back of her throat, but hurriedly dried herself off, rubbing the fabric over her head and drying her short hair before wrapping it around her body. She stole back to the little bath room with the other towel, pushing the door open and tossing it at Sand. "Well, it's certainly not the Seven Sails...but I suppose there's a bonus in that it doesn't come with the magical scrying, the spying servants, and the possible instant death if you say the wrong thing."

Sand caught the towel and began drying himself slowly. "No instead of magical scrying we'll just get normal scrying, instead of spying servants we'll get servants who are spies and instead of possible instant death of you say the wrong thing now we have the possibility of a delayed death for lingering too long in the city." He followed her into the small room. "Any clothes for me in here? And my dear, you certainly seem to be in a good mood now."

Torio felt her cheeks flush slightly, and she scowled at him as she began pulling on her clothing. "Certainly better than I have been. Count your blessings, wizard," she said caustically, but her eyes were warm as she glanced at him. "There should be clothes for you, albeit nothing as fine as what we had." She belted her tunic around her waist, and walked with him to the storage room; she bent over the disorganized piles of clothing, shifting through them; most of the articles were tailored for larger people. Even her own outfit hung slightly loose on her smaller frame, and Sand was nearly the same size.

She finally handed him a pair of black trousers and a faded, dark blue tunic. She watched him pull the trews on over his hips, his head bent forward as he concentrated on tying the laces together, dark, damp hair spilling over his shoulders. The muscles in his forearms clenched slightly as his fingers worked, making her heart beat suddenly fast. As he slipped the tunic on over his shoulders, she stepped forward, stopping his hands with her own.

She held her breath, lacing up his tunic herself, watching as the cloth closed over his lean, smooth chest, her fingers brushing against him unabashedly. Sand watched her fuss over his shirt, slowly dressing him. He had never had her dress him, only undress him and he decided immediately that both were pleasant options as both indicated nakedness at one end of the process or the other. She tied off the neckline, tugging him forward for a moment, pressing her mouth to his roughly...

_Knock._

She cursed against his mouth, stepping back quickly. Giving him one last, resignedly longing look, she smoothed out her hair. "Back to it, I suppose." She turned and walked towards the stairs that led up to the door; she waited until she heard another sequence of knocks and then carefully unlocked it, pulling it open.

The knock interrupted their hungry kiss and Sand remembered he hadn't eaten in a very very long time. His stomach gave a plaintive growl. The three spies re-entered and Sand sat on the edge of the bed, realizing belatedly that his pillow was still beside hers and the bedroll was clearly not slept in.

_You make a lousy secret agent, Sand. You're lucky to be alive in spite of it._

The younger spy took his seat at the table. "I hope you understand but we cannot give you our real names, only our code names. I am Lightfoot, Torio knows old Silverfox here by his reports and she is Ringside Molly. I hope you are both well rested, Molly wouldn't let us come in until she was certain you had had your full nights rest."

Sand replied casually, glancing at the woman who was carrying with her a loaf of bread, "The dear girl is very kind. Thank you."

She offered him the bread, "We're a tad hard pressed at the moment. Your antics yesterday have Luskan all shaken up - patrols have doubled, the Hosttower is busy accusing one another of the damage at the tower. There's even talk of imposing a curfew but that won't happen; the city would riot before then."

Torio sat down at the table as well, running a hand through her still damp hair. "No, a curfew won't happen...but if the Hosttower's involved fully, now, we'll be harder pressed to get out." She glanced up at Silverfox, her face thoughtful. "What does the harbor look like?"

The man snorted. "A right mess; they've blocked in all the exits out into the Sea except one, and they're searching every ship leaving the harbor for both you and Sand. Well," he said with a wink towards the elf, "Nagendra and Tanith Couleuvra, that is. Apparently a very prominent artificer and merchant was murdered in his home yesterday morning."

Lightfoot grinned at her. "A mere coincidence, I suppose."

She very politely ignored him.

Molly frowned at them. "Still, we've got a bit of time until we get word on our ship. And we need accounts from both of you, as well as time to work on your disguises." She went to a cupboard and pulled down a small cordial barrel of water, pouring the tapped stem out over small clay cups and passing them around. "Why don't you both start from the beginning...Lightfood, can you scribe?"

Torio took the cup offered to her and drank deeply, wetting her throat. It looked like it was going to be a long morning...


	15. Chapter 15

**Volume 2, Part XV: Technicalities**

The morning sun rose high in the sky and it was overhead by the time they finished their narrative. He knew she was leaving out parts of the story as she recounted her half of the story in efficient, business-like sentences. It was Torio the Ambassador speaking, not Torio the Woman and her tale lacked all the emotional shadings he knew was there.

Finally, Lightfoot put the quill down. "Quite the impressive tale. I will personally recommend that Nasher reward you both greatly for what you have done here. But we are getting ahead of ourselves. First, we must get you back to Neverwinter."

Molly stood up from where she had been leaning against the wall. "Disguises, and then get you both aboard our ship. We can't risk a polymorph spell. The Brotherhood will be screening for that. Any preference, the both of you?"

Torio looked over at Sand for a moment; her eyes narrowed thoughtfully; what would get them out of Luskan as fast and easily as possible? _At least relatively so._

"Someone older," she said quietly as she eyed Sand. "An old wizard; they're looking for a spry young human, first off, and Luskans in general tend to overlook the old and decrepit. And I...I'm your..." She paused, thinking.

"...apprentice?" suggested Molly, smiling. "Disguising you as a boy would be easier than you might think...and they are looking for someone who looks decidedly female."

Torio shook her head. "I can't cast a single spell; they'd know I'm not a wizard's apprentice."

Silverfox chuckled. "We never said you'd be a particularly good apprentice."

Torio snorted, but she looked over at Sand, her eyebrows arching in question. "It might work," she said quietly. "What do you think?"

Sand burst out laughing at Silverfox's comment. "We can give her small wands and such." He half turned to Torio. "I should teach you to use wands, it would come in handy." And added silently, so only she could hear: _An old wizard and his boy apprentice? That will mean I have to keep my hands away from you..._

He nodded. "Very well. How do you propose to hide my ears?"

Molly smiled again. "A hat? You would be surprised at how simple tools are often the most effective against Luskans. They are always seeking plots and complexities and fail to recognize that which is paraded in front of their noses."

Sand couldn't help but scoffing. "A hat...you propose to get me out of Luskan by way of a hat. Very well, I suppose more foolhardy ideas have worked."

Torio nodded at the spies. "It's worth a try then," she said dryly, giving Sand an arch look. "He's most certainly caustic enough for an old man." _You never know, Bodaes...ships are large, with plenty of nooks and crannies..._

She cleared her throat, realizing she had fallen wistfully silent for a split second. "Well! Shall we prepare?"

Molly took her arm, pulling her to her feet. "You gents have the wizard," she said almost cheerfully, guiding Torio back to the storage room. She grabbed various items from the shelves, bottles and articles of clothing, before leading her back towards one of the little closet-like rooms.

Torio winced as Molly once again tugged down the binding across her chest. "Is it necessary for it to be so tight?"

"You should have asked the gods for sparser assets," said the woman, grunting slightly as she yanked the webbed cloth tight and wound it around Torio's chest yet again. "That ought to do it; how does it feel?"

"Atrociously uncomfortable."

Molly grinned. "I know. Worn it myself a few times; you'll get a bit used to it, don't worry." She handed Torio her tunic. Once the latter was dressed again, Molly handed her a pair of small, knee high kid boots and a plain surcoat; as Torio pulled them on she began brushing her hair back from her face, sweeping it away from her forehead so that it waved back neatly in an imitation of a common men's hairstyle. "You're lucky; you'll have to watch the actual words your say, but you should be able to pass yourself off as young enough to where your voice hasn't changed yet." She opened one of the bottles and smeared a thin layer of soot over her face, then pushed her in front of a mirror. "How do you like that?"

Silverfox and Lightfoot immediately began rummaging through the assorted piles of gear and clothing. They found a small day pillow, and using yards of bandages, secured it to his back, telling him, "Hunch over!" They began powdering his hair white before knotting it up and securing it under a large floppy, absolutely ridiculous looking hat. A large bulky robe was thrown over him, a gnarled staff shoved in his hand, some black charcoal rubbed on his face...

...and then he was shoved unceremoniously in front of a small mirror.

There was no disguising his eyes. They remained as clear, sharp and blue as ever. Sand tried squinting slightly, rolling his shoulders forward, taking small shuffling steps. The large hat did wonders for actually hiding his face and hair. He turned and looked at the others. "It's good. Let's hope it's good enough to work."

Lightfoot shook his head slightly, "You'll have to change your voice, Sand."

Sand stared back into the mirror, clearing his throat and then saying in a raspy voice, "Let's hope it's good enough to work." By the gods, he sounded and looked...atrociously human! and old! "Do I have a name?"

Silverfox shrugged. "It's up to you."

He mused a moment, trying to come up with a very human name. "Roslyn. My name will be Roslyn."

When the door opened and Torio re-entered the room, her normally, decidedly feminine appearance was replaced with a slightly grubby, surly-looking, sweet-faced boy that seemed to be constantly slouching, thanks to the too-large surcoat on her shoulders. Torio stared at Sand for a moment, her mouth twitching in a suppressed smile. She stepped forward, and bowed only a little awkwardly. "Master," she said, keeping her voice as monotone as possible, "Your apprentice is here."

Sand nearly burst out laughing when he saw Torio, her strong feminine features suddenly hidden under the clothes. He tried straightening up, realized he couldn't under the pillow and hobbled over to her. He kept his voice low. "You're late, boy. Fetch me my walking cloak." He tilted his head to the side. "Or should I be more like Aldanon? A little more...mentally absent?" He backed up and tried another line. "Eh! Eh! You there! Boy! Are you my boy?"

Torio couldn't help snickering. "Mentally absent, is it? It would definitely dissuade suspicion." She fixed a bored, rather irritated expression on her face and turned...Molly was thrusting a cloak into her hands, and she took it, walking to Sand and draping it over his shoulders, judiciously tying it around his neck. "There, Master," she said. "Can't have your old bones catching cold." _Technically your bones are rather old, Bodaes..._

It was ridiculous, foolhardy, and completely ludicrous, what they were doing. And it would probably work. Lightfoot was chuckling behind his hand. "We'll provision you with what we have, but we don't have much. A few potions, some sparse, simple weapons, and maybe Silverfox here can find a wand or two. Molly, would you make a trip to the docks? See if our 'Captain' is ready and willing to take our guests aboard?"

Sand gave Torio a scathing look. _Technically but I'll have you know my bones are in perfect condition. Except the shoulder. _"So...ah...can we get out of the costumes? I'm short enough as it is compared to you humans and this bent over position - it makes me feel a little more...short."

Silverfox laughed and began pulling Sand out of his disguise. "You'll have to rinse out your hair again to get the powder out but I think we can do this." Sand straightened his back, relieved. The older spy continued speaking, "Aye we'll give you what we can, but until things settle, it's a risk every time we leave the house. Meaning you two will be stuck in here for at least three days. We'll bring down some cards or dice or games so you don't kill each other out of boredom."

Molly stood, pulling on her own cloak. "We'll see what our good captain will say to a charter. I'll be back soon with news. Stay low, all of you."

* * *

_Stay low, all of you._

That had turned into a foreboding premonition.

"He needs a few days," Molly had said. "They're asking for papers now from anyone leaving the city, and forging documents takes time. And money." She had had a pained, worried look on her face. "We'll keep you updated, but for now, we can't let you leave the safehouse; it's too risky with the streets the way they are."

That was a day ago, and Torio already felt like her bones were going to crawl out of her skin, she was so restless. They had random games, cards, handfuls of dice scattered across the table. At the moment, she was standing with a wand in her hand, pointing it towards a sad, wilted looking potted plant. There should have been bolts of ice shooting from the tip of the magical instrument, but instead, the plant was still triumphantly un-frozen and alive.

Her mouth was drawn in a tight line. "This isn't working, Sand," she said irritably. "Are you sure this is how I'm supposed to do it?"

"Yes yes, you're just not doing it right." He held a practice wooden dowel in his hands. "It's like this - you need to flick your wrists more and send the energy forward through the wand and not just hold it in your hand." He gave a quick demonstration. "See? Flick the wrist. Flick it."

When they had first been told they would be here for a few days Sand initially had rejoiced. Private time with Torio, holed up, safe, with a bed, a bath, some food. But it had become rapidly apparent that being trapped here, as pleasant as it was, was still being trapped here. Word from the outside was still bleak.

He ran his hand through his hair. "You know what, dear girl? Let's just take a break from this for now. We'll do something else. Play a game or something fun."

Torio sighed in disgust, tossing the wand next to her intended prey; the plant seemed strangely smug. "You don't have to request it twice." She was, inwardly, bitterly disappointed that this was so difficult for her. Things had usually come easy for her; languages, books, diagrams, customs, practices...she was used to her mind grabbing onto such things and taking to them like a fish to water, sharp and clever. But magic...

...it was disappointing because it was something Sand was so talented at, despite her constant ribbing at his hedge-worthy powers. She knew he was powerful...and that she was completely lacking in whatever intuition was needed to sink into using magical items like a...fish to water, as it were.

She found that she wanted to please him. And was inherently incapable of doing so; he was being patient, but she had to fight back a scathing bolt of irritation whenever he uttered, "Flick it!"

She slumped down into a chair; her trews were rolled up to slightly below her knees, her feet bare and legs exposed due to the stifling warmth of the underground safehouse, and their inability to open the door for more than a few minutes at a time; she propped her feet up on the table and began organizing the cards. "So what'll it be, most powerful wizard? A game of Tarok? Pokiir? As Nas?" She shuffled the faded, tattered cards in her hands, smiling at him slyly.

Sand followed her to the table and kissed her lightly before taking a seat opposite to her. He was wearing just a simple undershirt and pants, the heavy heat of the room making his hair stick to his neck. "I'm game for a round of As Nas. I don't have much in the way of coin to gamble though, dear girl. Perhaps we could bet..." He looked around the room. "Tins of sardines?"

Torio snorted laughingly...she glanced around. "Well," she said archly. "We are allowed to open the door to the street in the next hour for a bit of air...are you willing to wager the time you spend at the top of the stairs against mine?" She dealt out two cards to him, and then two to herself, setting the rest of the deck next to her hand. She eyed her cards; a one of spades and a two of clubs. She glanced at Sand over the top of them, her eyes narrowed. "How about it, Bodaes?

He toyed with the cards a moment. "Very well. You play a dangerous game, Ambassador. Risking your free air time - you certainly are a high roller." It had been a while since he last played the game but the rules were simple enough. The deck had 5 suits - hearts, cups, spades, clubs and diamonds - numbered from 1 to 5. You had to make a hand with the same suit, the same numbers, full houses, triples or pairs. He peaked at his cards. 4 of hearts, 3 of clubs. "I bet 2 minutes of fresh air."

"Two whole minutes?" She tapped one foot against the other, eyeing him speculatively. "Starting big, are we? I'll see your bet." She reached for the deck; they'd have to keep track of their numbers in their head. She watched him covertly from behind her cards as she slid two more across the table to him, dropping two in front of herself afterwards; he had a faint line between his brows as he looked down at his hand, his blue eyes narrowed slightly and gleaming with a subtle craftiness.

She smiled slightly, glancing down at her cards. The five of diamonds and the two of diamonds. "And I think I'll add another three minutes to it." Inwardly she winced slightly; five whole minutes with her face pressed to the crack in the door and the cool air caressing her cheeks. A high roller indeed. She watched him expectantly.

Sand mused it over. Her bet was significant and he only had a pair of 3s, the best he could hope for on the next hand was another 3 since the suits weren't matched up at all. She had a very slight smile on her face and Sand had to wonder if she was bluffing or if she had a good hand...

"All right dear girl, you can have my two minutes. I fold." He picked up the deck and began shuffling it, fighting the urge to look at her winning hand. Or her mind, for that matter. He dealt out the two cards and glanced at his hand. 3 of cups, 5 of cups. "Your bet, dear girl."

Torio triumphantly took her cards; the prospect of an extra two minutes in front of the door left her smugly satisfied, and yet...she wondered if she'd actually be able to take them from him. And frowned slightly at the fact that she was wondering such a thing. _Going soft, are we?_

_You're wondering that now, over a card game, after all that's happened? Maybe you're going daft as well, Torio Claven._

A five of spades and a two of cups. Hmmm. Not that she was terribly worried, but..."One minute," she said, tapping a finger against her cards absently. She kept her eyes trained carefully on the cards in front of her, but gently, carefully, touched his mind, attempting to get a glimpse of his cards...

"Only a minute, Torio? All right. I'll match your minute." He began dealing out the next two cards when suddenly there was a familiar tickling...

He looked up sharply at Torio. She was staring very intently at her cards, but the corners of her lips were twitching. He immediately blocked out the thoughts of his hand and childishly flashed her an image of him naked. "Keep your eyes - and your mind - on your own cards, Ambassador Claven. Or we'll go back to practicing flicking your wrist with the wand."

He dealt out the two cards and looked down at his own. 1 of spades, 4 of diamonds. Tymora was not being kind of him. Time to bluff. He slipped in a small smile and then immediately covered it up. "Your bet."

She drew her next cards, flashing him a narrow look. "I might partake in some honest peeking, but that is downright unfair, wizard." She hunched her shoulders sulkily, feeling a slight, rebellious and heated stirring in her blood at the image of him naked.

Clearing her throat distractedly, she eyed her cards. Two of cups and one of diamonds. She had a pair, at least..._flicking my wrist indeed, I'd like to flick something of his_...he looked, briefly, inordinately pleased with himself, and she smoothly dropped one leg from where it lay propped on the table, sliding it underneath the table. "Two minutes," she bet, rubbing her foot against his and tracing it around his ankle.

"Mmm." Sand wiggled in his seat when she started touching him, her skin hot but pleasant on his. "I will see your 2 minutes and raise you...a back rub." They were running out of minutes and at this rate she would probably end up winning all his minutes. Which he had to admit, he didn't really mind. She looked more miserable in the heat. He raised an eyebrow at her. "You still have time to fold the hand, my dear."

She continued stroking the top of his foot with hers, looking at him archly. "A backrub, is it? An expensive bet..." She did have a pair, but...he seemed rather sure of himself. They were at a three minute bet; although she'd won two so it wouldn't be going back too far.

Yet.

"All right, Bodaes," she said tartly, "I fold." She threw her cards down in disgust. "But I want to see what you had that made you so smug, you viper." She gestured at his cards.

Sand laughed, pleased. "Oh I don't think so, Helkaer." He placed his hand firmly on top of his cards. "Giving you Luskans information...why, I might as well just let you win the game." He stuck the cards into the middle of the deck and shuffled it twice before handing her the pile. "I've taken the liberty of helping you with your temptation to peak. It's how much I truly care for you, dear girl. But..." he added with an afterthought "...I can show you what has me so smug." He closed his eyes, bringing up the memory of her crying out his name as she climaxed...

Torio literally felt her body tighten in an echo of the memory and her fingers momentarily dug into the table. She pressed her mouth into a tight line, her eyes glittering dangerously. "My temptation to merely peek is not what you should be worried about, Sand," she said in a clipped voice; her use of his name slipped from her mouth almost in sync with his memory of her crying out, and she felt her skin flushing as she snapped two cards from the top of the deck and slapped them down in front of him. She drew two for herself; the four of spades and the two of...of hearts...

She looked down at her cards; one eyebrow rose and she glanced up at him, sending him an image of his face...his elegant fierce face and his expression from her viewpoint when he had climaxed in the bathtub underneath her.

"Your bet," she said, in a deceptively sweet voice.

Sand inhaled sharply, her memory resonating through him. For a brief moment, he was back in the tub, under her and at the table in front of her, clutching two cards at the same time. He felt his sleeping member give a stir of interest. "It appears, dear girl, we are currently playing two games." He looked at his cards, being careful to shield his thoughts. 3 of clubs, 3 of spades. He immediately said, "5 minutes."

Torio let out a low whistle...she was down a minute already. And a backrub. "Sure of yourself, are we, Bodaes?" She eyed him shrewdly; it was early, early in the hand, and she had absolutely nothing. She dropped her other leg from the table, leaning forward onto her elbows and letting the loose collar of her tunic slip off of one shoulder. "We shall see. I'll meet your five minutes."

She felt a ridiculous rush of nervous adrenaline as she reached for another pair of cards and tossed them to Sand, pulling two more towards herself...it's just minutes, it's not even a real game...but she held her poise, her mouth curled slyly as she looked at her new cards. The three of cups and the four of diamonds.

She let out an inward sigh of relief. It was something, at least, a pair of fours. She tapped the tops of her cards against her exposed collarbone, smiling at him coyly. "Well? What do you bet, oh dangerously confident one?"

Sand found his eyes following her cards, to her exposed skin...

_Stop that - you're falling right into her trap!_

He dropped his eyes onto his cards. 4 of cups, 4 of hearts. It took all his will power not to burst out laughing at his good luck. He grinned at her, craftily. "An ear rub before bed, dear girl. You know how much I love those. I wouldn't want to rob you of all your fresh air time. If I lose - what would you like in return?"

Her mouth quirked slightly as he threw an ear rub out onto the table. She might have to indulge him anyway, even if he lost... "All right, I suppose that's acceptable. As for me..." She thought for a minute, tapping her feet against the floor...

Her feet. They were always pinched into heeled slippers that...while not completely uncomfortable, did not make for cushioned walking. And the last day she had gone barefoot inside the safehouse, her only alternative being the kneed boots that went with her "costume." She wiggled her toes appreciatively against the floorboards as she answered, "I think a foot rub might be in order, wizard. We must put those capable fingers of yours to good use. I'll meet your bet with that." She reached down and lifted her last card...the three of diamonds.

She waited until Sand picked his up and examined it, feeling a trill of excitement. She might actually win this thing...Two pairs…

"Agreed then, dear girl." He slid the last card over to him. "Best be getting your hands ready. I've so dreadfully missed having Elven ears..." He looked. 5 of clubs. That gave him 2 pairs - 3s and 4s. He sat back in his chair and studied her across from him. She seemed very confident, very relaxed with her bet. He needed to push her out of the hand, make her fold...

"I'll bet first dibs on the bathwater in the morning AND you have to heat it and fill it up for me."

Her eyebrows went up. "I'll call that bet. And I'll raise you...not only will you have to prepare my bath, but I think you can wash my skin and hair for me, as well." She tapped her fingers against the table as she said, casually, "Will you call me? I understand if it's too much for you, Bodaes...no hard feelings if you have to drop out." Uncharacteristically, she winked at him.

Sand laughed, short and sharp. "Oh I will call you, Ambassador. It would be my pleasure to - in fact, I will raise you - " He looked around. What else could he bet? Rodent-chewed towels? Hardened biscuits? Wine that had gone bad? He looked down a moment...

"...I will raise you me."

She narrowed her eyes at him. Definitely confident. Or bored into desperation. "All right," She said, after a long, quiet moment. "I'll call you." She turned her cards over, and displayed them on the table. "Show me."

Sand flipped his cards over and then eyed hers. Pair of 4s and a pair of 3s. But her remaining card was a 2 whereas his was a 5. "It would seem, dear girl, that Tymora has favored me today. It will be satisfying to collect." He grinned widely at her, his blue eyes bright. "So what does winning you entail? Will I be allowed to ask you to make me a sandwich?"

"Now...wait! Just a minute, you slick little snake..." She stabbed her finger down on the two of hearts from where it lay on the table. "We never established cards outside of the trick counted for anything." She leaned back in her chair, tossing her head indignantly, her hair flicking out of her eyes. "We're tied, as far as I'm concerned."

She examined the nails of her hand; they'd become shortened over the last week, their ends chipping and breaking off until she had been reduced to trimming them off completely, so the action was more habit than real concern over the state of the ends of her fingers. "As for a sandwich...as long as you're not too worried about what might end up inside of it..."

Sand snorted. "Where did you learn how to play? Cards outside the trick always count. The kicker, as we called them. Don't weasel your way out of paying up for this loss - you can't avoid the consequences for losing all the time." He watched her a moment, and then said irritably, "And really, girl, for all the threats on my life I've never seen you make one serious effort."

She half-stood, her eyes blazing. "Please! The 'kickers' aren't even mentioned in the original rules, and you certainly didn't set a precedent before we started playing. Trying to win on insignificant technicalities _again_, Sand?" She pressed her hands against the table, leaning forward, her voice tinged with irate anger. "By all means, if you'd like a serious effort on your life, let me know. I'll give it my best, just for you."

He half-stood as well. "I'm not the one that called trial by combat, _Luskan_." He hissed the last word out. "We won fairly and you had to throw them into the arena with that monster, Lorne." His fingernails dug into the table when he remembered the horror of watching Meaghan go up against the brute nearly twice her size and weight. "Tell me, Torio, how long is that body trail behind you?"

His eyes narrowed. "And I'll call your bluff, dear girl. You wouldn't kill me - I don't even think you could hurt me with your best efforts." He took a step towards her.

Torio's face flinched almost imperceptibly before becoming harder than stone, her eyes furiously cold. She pushed her chair back, hearing it topple backwards and clatter to the floor behind her as she straightened all the way. "Maybe Meaghan Farlong needed to go up against a true brute for once; learn what it's like in the real Faerun, and not in the back country swamps of the Mere where lizardmen roll over onto their backs for you with a few kind words! You call them heroes, Sand? They can barely hold themselves together, and they're supposed to save us all!" She laughed, short, sharp, clear. "I won't have to attempt anything on your person, Sand...your foolhardy 'leaders' will accomplish it all for me, and you'll simply trail along behind them." She slapped at the pile of cards, sending them scattering over the edge of the table, fluttering to the floor as she turned and began pacing.

She had a temper, when he could crack it. And he had to admit, she had a way of making him lose his - she knew which buttons to push, which levers to pull - how to mar his glossy exterior. _Damn her._ He snarled, "Meaghan Farlong - all of them - have fought countless lizardmen, githyanki, undead, orcs, demons, thieves, bandits and heavens know what other kinds of abominations to get to where they are now." He ticked the list off on his fingers. "They have earned their title of heroes."

"And yes, I will admit they act like petty children at times. I will also admit their mental faculties occasionally leave something to be desired. And yes, their hygiene and dietary habits can be questionable - but - if it wasn't for them, who would fight, Torio? Who would fight to save your life? They - we - have been charged with this suicidal mission. Don't think I don't know that, dear girl." He yanked the amulet containing the ariik gem off his neck. For some reason her words hurt him deeply and that only made him angrier.

"You don't have the courage to kill me with your own hands. You rely on circumstances to do it for you, don't you? Twisting the political ropes until a person hangs themselves?" He put the gem down on the table. "You gave me this so I could return to you. If you don't want me back - then you can have it back, and your goal to kill me will be accomplished with no blood on your hands." He went to stomp out the front door, realized he couldn't, and so turned and entered the storage room instead. _Petty children!_

* * *

She stopped pacing when the storage room door slammed shut. Cards scattered at her feet; a hot, infuriated buzzing filled her head. The locket gleamed on the table, glaringly bright against the other odds and ends scattered around it.

Silence hung thick around her. She stepped forward, once, and then again. She stood at the table, her fingers lightly touching the edge.

_He'd taken it off._

She touched the chain, tracing its path against the wood. The locket buzzed at her, angry at her closeness, even with the gem protected and encased in metal. _Not allowed_. She coiled the chain around her finger. _Not allowed to touch._

Torio sank into the chair, feeling suddenly sick. He had a compelling voice; passion or sarcasm or boredom or amusement or anger, it slithered under her skin unlike anything she'd experienced in her life. He threw her vileness, her ruthlessness, her cruelty into her face and for the first time in her life it had cut her open as quickly as any knife.

She turned abruptly from the table and moved to the bed, sinking down onto it. She sighed sinking into it; her throat felt tight, her eyes stung...but Torio Claven does not weep. She reached for the second pillow and faced the wall, shutting her eyes.

* * *

The storage room was small and its claustrophobic size seemed to pressed down around him, the room being unbearable stuffy and hot. But better to be in this room alone than out there with her.

It seemed to Sand that the entire world was shrinking. It went from Neverwinter, to the Keep, to the safehouse and now the storage room. The only thing smaller and which he was certain he was headed towards was a coffin.

That is, if he would be so lucky to have a coffin and not just be another random body on a battlefield...

He pulled a bottle of wine down from the shelf. He had seen that ranger, Bishop, wallowing himself in alcohol on numerous occasions. He might as well try out the technique while he was joined with such maudlin thoughts. He drained a good quarter of the bottle on the first swig and sat down, leaning against the wall.

Gods! How would he be able to live with such a woman? And to think he had just started making long terms plans in his mind with her...

She was maddening. Completely maddening. She challenged everything that was done, had little or no faith in anything or anyone, always seemed to take any situation to her advantage...

But it was coupled with a determination, an ambition, a passion and a drive that drew him to her the way he was drawn to a good book. A good book with an _Explosive Rune _spell on it, it seemed. She seemed to know (and was quite willing to abuse) her effect on him and at the same time, seemed completely oblivious to it.

Sand finished the bottle of very bad wine a lot quicker than he intended. He put the bottle down and then lay back on the bedroll that was still in here. His pillow was still on her bed and gods be damned if he would go out and get it. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the dripping of water from somewhere.

But there was no denying that he loved her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Volume 2, Part XVI: Bad Wine and Good Company**

Torio didn't realize she had dozed off until her eyes suddenly snapped open. She had no idea how long she had been sleeping; the candles and lanterns still burned brightly in the room.

_Air. She needed air. _

She peeled herself from the bed, and slipped towards the small staircase leading to the door. Only a few minutes… Her throat constricted painfully, threatening to choke her, as she thought that only a short time ago they were playfully betting their time spent breathing at the doorway...

She pressed against the wall, at the top of the stairs, sitting on the top step, and gently pulled the door open a crack. The faint, afternoon sun spilled against her face, and she drew in a ragged breath as fresh air caressed her skin momentarily.

A minute passed.

It was just a card game, anyway. But it was more than that, wasn't it? He still didn't realize the imminent death he was setting himself up for, and even if he did realize it, she knew he didn't have a brazenly heroic bone in his body. She didn't understand why he was doing this; of course, someone had to.

Why him?

He had been pulled into the Knight Captains' circle due to them needing someone to go against her. She felt a wash of that original loathing that had wracked her when facing him in the courtroom; he was stubborn, and smug, and arrogant, and he had no idea how to survive in a world that would cut you open as soon as look at you; he ran when he should stay and he stayed when he sure at the hells should run away...

Another minute.

She rubbed her eyes. She should be running away. She should be taking the umpteen chances she was getting and slip away, disappear; she could survive somewhere else, she knew she could. She stayed...because why?

_He makes you want to stay._

She swore softly under her breath, and carefully, tentatively, reached out with her mind._Sand?_

* * *

Sand had tried to sleep but the alcohol was making the storage room spin very slowly. Instead he continued staring at the ceiling and listening to the dripping water until he was certain he would go mad. But getting up just caused the spinning to worsen, so he admitted defeat and stretched out again.

He felt small, halting tendrils in his mind... _Torio. I'm here. In the storage closet. I'm drunk I think._

* * *

She paused, frowning, and shut the door. Drunk? The instant shift from cool, breezy air to underground warmth hit her hard. She sat for a moment, unsure. Her eyes darted down to where the steps opened up into the small main room; she could barely see the bottom edge of the storage room door._Are you okay?_

She resisted the urge to think,_ Do you need me?_

Sand was suddenly impossibly happy that she was talking to him. Well not exactly talking but thinking at him. The thoughts spilled out before he could stop them, the alcohol making his mind loose and uninhibited.

_No I can't sit up but I'm ok. _

_The room is spinning._

_Come drink with me._

_The wine is awful._

_But the company is good._

_There may be rats in here as well if you are partial to rodents._

She could sense the warm envelope clouding his mind. Definitely drunk. Torio stood and slipped back down the stairs. A few cards scattered as she swept through them. She paused at the storage room door, her mind churning unhappily. _You're angry with him._

_Just as long as we have that part clear. _

After a moment she pushed open the door slowly; Sand was sprawled out on the ground over the bedroll, an empty bottle next to him. She knelt next to him, eyeing the bottle; the label was a generic brand of tablewine, and she curled her lip distastefully. She bent over him, touching his cheek lightly. "Sand?"

He looked at her a long time. She spun less than the room and so he focused on her face, her eyes, her nose... "Torio. You came. Wine?" His hand fumbled on the shelf behind him looking for the nearest bottle. "The host would be terribly remiss if he didn't offer the Ambassador some wine." The words slurred together slightly. He looked at her again. "Did I ever tell you, dear girl, that I love your nose?"

His fingers finally curled around the neck of some bottle. He propped himself up on an elbow and pulled the cork out with his teeth. He offered it to her

She took it, her eyes narrowed at his face.

_You're mad..._

His pupils were slightly dilated and slightly glazed; he was swaying slightly on his elbow, watching her.

_...at him..._

She stretched out next to him on the bedroll, which was almost impossible, and took a long, deep drink from the bottle. It was absolutely terrible wine, and it had definitely been in the storage room for far too long.

She came up for air, her head swimming. "My nose?" She asked, wiping a trace of wine from her mouth. "No, you've never mentioned my nose, Bodaes." She rolled onto her stomach, holding the bottle between both hands, eyeing him suspiciously. Was this a tactic? A way to keep her from being absolutely furious at him? Maybe he was merely pretending to be drunk...

Sand gave her a wide smile as she lay out besides him and drank the wine. "Oh yes, your nose. It's like..." he struggled to find the proper words to describe it, the wine making his tongue loose but inaccurate. "Like...ahhh...like... Like a bump that works very well on your face." He leaned over and nipped it gently. He nuzzled into her shoulder a moment, inhaling her familiar scent, before rolling back onto his back. It was so warm here, the floor so hard and uncomfortable. Why was he here again?

The fight.

He looked at her again. "Are you here to kill me?" He reached for the bottle.

She smothered a snicker, holding the wine bottle out of his reach. "No," She said absently. "Not here to kill you." Her heart really wasn't in her stifled thought of _Not yet, anyway_. She took another drink, her face grimacing as the slightly sour liquid rolled down her throat. "Gods, but this is awful...you've had an entire bottle already?" She looked over at his slightly flushed face; it was awful but potent, and she felt her skin heating up slowly as her blood rushed through it.

"Yes dear girl, a whole bottle. You know, we really first met over wine." He made another half-hearted swipe at the alcohol and then gave up. "If you're not here to kill me, why are you here? Why don't you kill me, already? You want me dead, don't you? The suspense is...well...not killing me." He flopped around on the bedroll a bit and then rubbed his face with his hands. "I'm not making any sense."

"The wine was a lot better, last time." Her last drink nearly drained the entire bottle, and she finally relented, pressing it into his hands. "Here, have the rest." She groaned, dropping her head forward onto the crooks of her elbows. "I just wanted to taste wine, you know, that night in the Library. I hadn't had wine in ages, that stupid cook hardly slipped me more than water." Her head was pounding. "But then I got the wine, and then we were talking, and then I wanted you..." She was making less sense that he was. She pushed herself up, reaching for another bottle.

She fell silent for a moment. Her voice came as she pulled the cork off of the bottle. "I don't want you dead, Sand." After a moment, she added, "Not really."

He polished off the bottle and watched enviously as she went for the new bottle. "Why did you want me that night? I never understood it. It was a mystery and if there's on thing I can't stand, it's questions without answers..." He arm was moving of its own volition, resting itself lightly on her waist. The cloudiness in his head was incredible and the room had stopped spinning and was now tipping from side to side. His hand tightened on her body, his only anchor in the swaying. "I'm glad you don't really want me dead. Let me know if that ever changes though so I don't invite you back into my room."

Torio nearly choked in the midst of swallowing as she tilted the bottle back. "I'll let you know," She said, laughing as she pulled the bottle away from her mouth; her head suddenly swam. "I'll invite you back to mine instead." She set the bottle down and suddenly slid her arms around him, pressing her face into his robes. "You smell like magic, you know." She inhaled dizzily, her fingers plucking at his robes. "I love that smell. I could smell it on you in the Library." She twisted slightly so that she was propped over his waist, and took another drink.

"I was teasing you, at first; I wanted to crack your...your...exterior," she slurred the last word, and then hiccupped without the slightest shred of dignity. She covered her mouth for a moment in mild surprise, and then coughed, clearing her throat. "But it just...escalated...you were so intriguing...and your eyes..." She scooted forward, bending down over his face and began kissing his eyes...or attempting to, as her mouth haphazardly pressed against his face.

Sand laughed when she began kissing him. She landed a kiss on his eyebrow, then another on his cheek. He held her tightly to him. "I like your room. I would go back to your room. Ah dear girl, you've cracked me all the way through."

He pressed his mouth to the nearest part of her, which happened to be her chin. "You fascinated me, Torio. I didn't understand how someone could do what you did. And..." he gave her a lazy smile. "You're so bad. A bad girl. It was attractive."

His eyes half-closed. "Are you drunk too?"

"No!" She said indignantly, pulling back for a moment. Then..."Maybe. A little." She pushed his shoulder lightly. "Not as drunk as you, viper. This wine is terrible, have I said that?" She took another long drink, before setting the bottle aside.

She laughed. "A bad girl? I thought you ran away from Luskan, Sand...trying to get it back into bed, where you?" She stared archly down at him, and then bent her head, nipping at his neck lightly. "If you only knew. A very bad girl."

_By the gods, had she actually said that?_

"I did run away from Luskan." His hands began stroking her hair. "I don't know if she has forgiven me yet. And...more over...I don't know if I have forgiven the very bad Luskan either." His eyelids were getting heavy from the alcohol and he smiled contentedly. He loved her weight on top of him; it was utterly comforting. "I'm very drunk. Take advantage of me while you still can!"

She shifted completely on top of his body, setting the bottle aside. It was slightly more comfortable to straddle his body with trousers on, and she giggled senselessly as she cuddled down against him, her face burrowing against his neck. "I don't need you drunk to take advantage of you," she said smugly, her arms sliding around him. She shut her eyes. "You had to pick the storage room...you're incorrigible! And you didn't even get to open the door outside..."

A few moments later, she let out a delicate, soft snore; she was completely and utterly unconscious.

Sand lay there a moment, listening to her breathing. He couldn't even remember why they had fought. Over some rules of some card game? He sighed, the alcohol lulling him into sleep. He would just close his eyes for a bit... His head dropped and rolled lightly towards Torio. He fell asleep, his nose pressed against her cheek.


	17. Chapter 17

**Volume 2, Part XVII: Hope You Like Fish**

The first thing that alerted Torio to the fact that she was awake was her pounding skull.

She lifted her head slightly, opening her eyes; Sand's face was pressed against hers and as hers was displaced his head lolled, rolling back against the floor. She blinked in the stuffy dimness of the storage room; her tongue felt three sizes too big and her head...She groaned, pushed herself up slightly, and looked down at Sand consideringly for a moment. "Wake up, Bodaes," she whispered. His body felt very, very warm underneath hers.She patted his cheek lightly."Wake up." He answered her with a mumble and a slight roll of his head. After a moment where his eyelids fluttered, he sank back into sleep.

She snorted, and pushed herself off of him.Standing up made her head reel, and she staggered against the wall for a moment; when the world righted itself once again she opened the storage room door and gingerly walked back into the main room. The place was still a mess from her card-flinging tantrum. She ignored the ariik gem where it lay taunting her at the edge of the table, and snagged up one of the pillows from her bed. A quick slip back into the storage room and a quick slip of the pillow beneath Sand's head; after a moment, she positioned herself underneath both, so that Sand's head was effectively cushioned in her lap.She still smarted slightly from their fight, but she bent down and kissed his sleeping ear."Amin naa mysia." _I'm sorry. _She brushed his hair back from his face, and slowly, gently, began stroking his ears with her fingers. A bet was a bet, after all...

Waking up was one of the most confusing things he had ever done in his life. There was a steady pounding behind his eyes and as he opened his eyelids a sliver, the light of the room seemed to burn a path right to his brain. His whole body was stiff, and sore and he felt as though he had been run over by an umber hulk.He groaned. And then moaned. Because at the same time as the headache marched through his mind, darts of bliss were shooting from his ears and down his spine. He gave a small shuddering breath of ecstasy and shoved his head in the direction of the pleasure.

He risked another look and saw that his head was no longer lying on the hard stone floor of storage room. It was, in fact, cushion but a large pillow which was being supported by a woman's lap.

Torio's lap.

"Oh hello, dear girl." He gave another whimper of happiness. "Have I died and gone to the heavens?"

"I'm almost positive you're still quite alive," Torio said smoothly, rubbing the tips of his ears between her thumb and forefinger. She bent over his face, looking down into his (rather bleary) eyes and smirking slightly. "You looked rather uncomfortable lying there on the floor, so I figured I would rectify the situation." She kissed the tip of his nose. "You can get up if you like."

Sand purred, "Oh no, my dear Torio. I'm quite happy like this. Besides, I don't think I could get up even if I had wanted to." He looked at her again, his expression as sly as possible considering the circumstances. "So do you concede that I won?

She slid her fingers down around his lobeless ears, stroking them rhythmically. "I suppose for the sake of both of our continued healthy existence, we can...agree that you won, for the moment." Her voice was deceptively amiable as she pinched his ears lightly. "I couldn't bear to think that I've driven you to drown yourself in drink because you lost a game of cards to my illustrious self."

Sand snickered and then cringed as the headache pounded in his ears. "No, instead we'll just let the others think, instead of losing a card game,it was just a woman that I care about that drove me to drink. I can join the ranks of those other poor fools." He gave a short gasp when she pinched him, but it wasn't unpleasurable. He smiled at her and then murmured, "Oh who am I denying? You know you'll get your foot rub. And your bath. There's not much else to do here anyway. Unless you want to go practice with the wand some more."

Torio ran the palms of her hands up the sides of his ears, laughing. "Gods, no," she said, her eyes rolling in distaste. "If all else fails I can drive the damn wand into someone's eye." She bent over his face, her heart giving a pained tug..._it was just a woman that I care about that drove me to drink._

_Well of course he does, he wouldn't have become so infuriated so quickly...and neither would you._

She plied his mouth open with her own, kissing him lightly. "I suppose there are advantages to being trapped down here, then," she said lightly. Her voice became sly. "Your back must be killing you...you know you're much too old to be sleeping on floors."

His lips quirked up in a smile. "I'm not that old. Stop making me sound like I'm an enfeebled old man, dear girl. It's bad enough I must play one to escape." He sat up, slowly, stiffly. "It's not a matter of age in any case, but a refined taste." He twisted his body around and cupped her face, pulling her to him and kissing her. "Any word from the outside world?"

"Mmmm," She said, returning his kiss enthusiastically...she pushed the pillow from her lap and straightened up, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Nothing yet," She said quietly, pulling back. She frowned slightly, examining his face. "I hope nothing's gone..."

Before her sentence could even finish, there was a series of knocks on the door at the top of the stairs. She snorted. "Ask and you shall receive." She stood up and moved somewhat gingerly to the stairs; after waiting for the second series of knocks, she pulled open the door wide enough to let Lightfoot and Ringside Molly slip inside.

Molly dropped a cloth sack in her hands as they shut the door behind them. "Food," she said shortly. "The Captain still isn't ready, but he's claiming progress has been made." As they spilled down into the main room, she added, "That's the good news, at least."

Lightfoot was eyeing the scattered cards around the floor and the ariik gem on the table; he looked at Torio questioningly, but she kept her face blank as she set the sack down on the table; bread, a wheel of cheese, sausages, some fruit and a jar of some unidentifiable soup. "And the bad news?"

"They've taken Silverfox for questioning down in the docks," she said quietly. "Nothing major, mind you; they'll probably release him later tonight, since it's merely a watch post that's taken him, and they usually badger anyone that looks remotely suspicious out of boredom." She sighed, rubbing her eyes. "But it means that someone's going to be watching us; we come and go often enough through the docks to at least have our faces recognized." Her face was calm, offhanded, but her eyes were pained.

Sand slowly made his way into the main room. The food smelled delicious but his stomach was still churning. He probably looked like the victim of the plague. He picked up an apple and in the same motion, swept the ariik gem into his hand. "I hope he's all right," Sand said, furrowing his brow. "So another day or two? Excuse me if I seem anxious - your hospitality has been wonderful - but I'd rather be back home. I'm sure you understand."

Molly began breaking up pieces of bread and passing them around the table. "Depending on what happens with Silverfox, the plans may change. We have fears that they will begin looking into the Couleuvra's past and realize they are not from Waterdeep, that they don't even exist." Her face hardened. "None of the agents have ever been compromised on our watch and we are not about to let it start happening."

Lightfoot began slicing the cheese, and he asked casually, "Everything ok in here?"

"Everything's fine," Torio said evenly; she took a piece of bread but forwent the offered sausages and cheese, her stomach twinging slightly. She sat in her chair from earlier and propped her legs up on the table once again, taking a bite and chewing methodically. She swallowed. "Just a...um...game of As Nas to pass the time."

Lightfoot glanced at the floor. "I can see that."

Molly chewed on a piece of fruit, her expression sour. "Things are getting rather heated on the streets," she said. "I need both of you, Sand and Torio, ready to up and leave at a moments notice if it comes down to it. Disguises ready, supplies packed; if we have to run for it then we won't have time to laze around and prepare."

They ate, answering questions about the situation above ground; Luskan was nearly in an uproar, with people's homes being searched without warning and anyone on the street being pulled in for random sessions of 'questioning.' "They seem somewhat determined to find the Couleuvra's," she said shrewdly, reaching for a piece of fruit.

"Aye, they do, at that; they know there's more to Asrar's murder than a simple merchant and his wife trying to get their hands on an enchanted map. And of course, they suspect Neverwinter's hand...they always do, in almost everything. But..." he caught Molly's eye and shrugged. "We'll merely have to be cautious," he said evasively. "Just be prepared to leave quickly, the both of you."

Sand took a bite of his apple. It was a little overripe but he supposed at this point, beggars (or rather, fugitives) couldn't be choosers. "We'll be ready. We understand having us here puts you all at risk too." He felt his heart beating harder - it seemed as though Luskan wouldn't be letting them leave without a fight either. Suddenly staying in the cramped little safehouse seemed a tempting idea instead of risking a crazy escape plan.

He glanced at Torio. She'd never be happy trapped in here. Her restlessness inside the large spacious Keep was evident enough and judging from this afternoon, it would probably only take another two days before she seriously tried to kill him. "We'll be ready."

They left again soon after; Torio bent to, packing potions, rations...the wands...into a small travel sack, her fingers trembling. It seems they might be leaving sooner than they thought. She grabbed up the accoutrements of her "disguise" and laid them out, ready to be slipped into at a moments notice.

She watched Sand in his own preparations for a moment, pausing as she stretched her back; as anxious as she was to put as much distance as she could between herself and Luskan, she realized with a pang that they had been able to act as they wished with relative privacy during their stay here. Once they were back at the keep they would be safe...and having to pretend that they loathed each other once more.

No more sleeping in.

She realized she'd been staring at him. Torio brushed her fingers out of her hair, thinking at him..._Think we might manage a day together that doesn't involve our lives, names, or freedom being threatened, eventually?_

Sand looked up at her from the old robes he was laying out across the back of a chairand held her gaze a long time, considering his words carefully. It always seemed as though the words came easiest when they were about to risk life and limb. It probably had to do partially with the fact that he could always blame it on duress.

_Yes. One day. I have hope._

He walked over to her and pressed his forehead to hers. I_f we survive this whole war, we'll leave Neverwinter and Luskan, go south and make new lives for each of us. No alliances or allegiances to any city, to anyone, but ourselves. _He cupped her face tenderly and held her still. _Candlekeep sound all right? Imagine all the books!_

He had to admit he had been thinking of it more and more - what future they had together, if any. There had been days he honestly thought there was hope of a life together,as impractical as such dreams were. These small morsels of a fool's paradise made the battle against the King of Shadows worth it. And even if he died, maybe - just maybe - Torio would make it out alive.

_I have hope. _At least one of them did. She let her hands slide up around his where they held her face, her fingers curling against his hands and holding them lightly. _It's a plan, at least,_ she thought lightly, her mouth curling slightly into a smile as she tilted her face forward and brushed his mouth in a kiss. It seemed completely impossible to even imagine it, to her; she was so ensnared in intrigues and plots, her first reaction to almost any situation being to lie and twist words until she could ensure her own continued survival and safety... She wasn't enough of a fool to believe that a woman like her would ever be guaranteed peace.

But maybe...

"I like the south," she said, almost shyly. She cleared her throat, her voice regaining some of its clipped crispness. "Leave it to you to choose one of the biggest libraries in Faerun...do they have reliable tables there?"

Sand laughed and gave her a roguish grin. "I'm certain they do, dear girl. If not, we'll find a carpenter to build us our very own private table. We should lend out our services to test the strength and reliability of tables everywhere. We could use it to supplement our income. Give up this spying business for good. I think we're better at assuring the integrity of wooden surfaces, bathing tubs, and carriages." He gave her a quick peck and then took a step back. "And I'm glad you prefer the south over the north.Sending me to Icewind Dale would be pure torture." He sat on the edge of the bed, saying, "And now we wait. We're awful at waiting, Helkaer."

Torio snorted, climbing onto the bed behind him. She settled against the mattress, and reached up, pressing her fingers into Sand's shoulder...Which one had been injured? She saw the image of Falathiel's foot digging down into Sand's body, heard the snap! of bone all over again...

She felt her body grow cold with a terrible fury, and a raw disappointment that she hadn't gotten to kill the Elven woman herself. She slowly, carefully, began kneading his shoulders. "I'll admit waiting patiently doesn't fall on our list of virtues," she said absently, her eyes traveling down the back of his head, following the fall of his hair. She sighed as her fingers worked against his flesh through the fabric of his tunic. "Is this what it's like for you, then? Long stretches of nothing and then flurries of fighting, torture, spellcasting, and running for your life?"

Sand closed his eyes and relaxed under her touch as her skilled fingers began massaging his injured shoulder. "Lle aileli amin." _You indulge me._ "Yes...that's exactly what it's like. Adventuring. As tedious as I thought it would be. With lots of walking or horses thrown in for good cause as well." He chuckled. "I don't run away nearly as often as you think I do, my dear. Ooh yes, that's the spot." The muscle was still tight, moving stiffly over the healed bone. How many days had it been since they were in the tower? Two days?

Ah but it seemed an eternity.

It was amazing how quickly they had gone back to at least a semblance of normality. Sand still hadn't asked her about her time with Asrar and she still hadn't offered any information. He still hadn't explained why his hand was still slightly swollen and bruised either though he had seen her looking at it when they had first met up from Asrar's mansion. He made a fist with his hands, examining the knuckle when she pressed down between his shoulder blades, making the dark thoughts drop from his mind temporarily. "Ah, dear girl, that feels wonderful. I really do love it when you touch me, 'Wife'."

Torio's hands paused only momentarily before she resumed, her mouth twitching in amusement. The cloth of his tunic bunched and slid beneath her fingers as she worked the skin and muscles beneath them, and she reached down and firmly but gently pulled his tunic up over his shoulders, dropping it onto the bed next to her. Much better. Her hands slid over his bareback for a moment before beginning to press down gently against the soft pressure points along his spine and shoulder blades, his skin warming underneath her fingers. "Getting into character, are we? Trying to take advantage of those wifely duties?" His flippant use of the term "wife" brought to mind those (relatively) easy days in the carriage before they had arrived, when there was nothing to do but talk and sleep...and make love. It seemed just as deceptively simple now as it did then; they were alone, with nothing much else to do but wait, and his body was warm under her hands.

She felt a discordant nudge through his mind, and the only comprehensible trail of the thought she caught before it disappeared was Asrar. Her eyes softened for a moment. She bent forward, nuzzling his hair out of the way as she began kissing the back of his neck. "Ent Amin liy sylol llie, ceral." _And I love touching you, "husband."_

The touch of her fingertips on his bare skin was much nicer than through the coarse tunic. He glanced over his shoulder at her. "You could say I was getting into character - one of my many characters it seems. I'd rather be your husband than your master of the arts, otherwise I suspect I'd have to spend the rest of my life yelling 'Flick it' at you. And you'd be a boy and I'd be old." He leaned back into her kisses. They were playing a thorny, treacherous game - throwing the words 'husband' and 'wife' around, almost too casually.

Sand tried to picture Torio in a puffy white wedding gown, walking down the aisle towards him, with - well who would go to their wedding exactly?

_Oh Sand you're marrying the woman who tried to kill us all! Here's a lovely set of doilies for a wedding gift._

_No - definitely not._

He bit his lip to stop from bursting out with laughter, his shoulders shaking slightly and he coughed to cover it up. Marriages - they meant a different thing when one spouse could outlive the other spouse by hundred of years. A few years of bliss then many years - decades, centuries-of heartache and loneliness. He knew how these relationships always turned out. Never good.He sighed and then whispered very softly, "You know I care deeply for you, dear girl."

Torio stopped, her hands pressed warmly against his back. She stared at the back of his head for a moment, tracing the way his dark hair brushed the nape of his neck with her eyes. He had suddenly gone from lightly teasing to very serious in a matter of moments.

She slid her hands forward, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him back against her body. There was a torrent of things she could say, that were just waiting, patiently, at the back of her tongue. _I love you. I want to live better than I have been because of you. I would do anything for you. I fear that you'll die in this war and I'll be more alone than I ever have been._ And this time there wasn't a truth serum in sight to take the blame for it. Her inherent caution,her deep, age-old pain closed her throat, made her head and heart feel heavy and burdened with the thirty years of life she had clawed her way through so far.

She held on to him tightly, as if he would slip away...or maybe she would...if she let go. "I know," she said quietly, pressing her face against his ear.

Sand turned around, wrapping his arms around her and pulled her down to the lumpy mattress. She was holding him, clutching him to her and he embraced her fiercely. Sand had no idea how long they held each other on the small mattress - it could have been minutes or hours but he knew they faced a very uncertain future and any moment together could be their last."Oh, Torio."

His hands traced across her collarbone and down her chest, embedding the memory of her skin into his fingers. Her lips - they tasted like flesh and slightly salty - she obviously did not have her lip ointment here with her. He wanted to memorize the feel of her body, the way their arms draped over their waists and shoulders, how her breathing deepened when she relaxed, how her adorable nose twitched when she slept, how her gray eyes flashed when she was angry, how her voice sounded so victorious when she scored a point in an argument. Their bodies fit together perfectly - lock and key.

It had taken him nearly 300 years to find her. Hells be damned if they thought he would lose her now.

_Knock knock._

Sand looked up from his reverie. He quickly made his way over to the door even as the second set of knocks came. He threw open the door and then stepped back, horrified, as Ringside Molly and Lightfoot came in carrying a beaten Silverfox."By Mystra - what happened?" He ran over to the cupboards and began looking for potions and bandages.

Silverfox coughed, "I'm all right, just the usual Luskan city watch beating..." He grimaced before continuing, "You have to get out of here now. They're doing a midnight sweep of these neighbourhoods and they'll find you for sure." He waved the other spies off him. "Help them! I'm all right."

Lightfoot immediately came over to Sand. "Quickly now, into your disguise! Molly, help Torio."

Molly wrenched her arm so hard that Torio nearly fell; she only had time for a grim, desperate glance at Sand's face before she was shoved towards the corner; without further ado, the woman spy spun her around to face the wall and yanked her tunic up over her shoulders without so much as a by-your-leave. "I'm sorry, but we don't have time for modesty. Lift your arms." The webbing crossed her chest once again, and she winced and gasped as Molly tugged it tight, wrapping it around her body five-fold before finally tying it off, satisfied.

Her trousers were briskly rolled down as she shrugged into her tunic; she could hear fabric being rustled and quiet cursing and instructions being muttered behind her as Sand was hurried into his disguise. A jar full of soot was thrust into her face; she patted it as her hair was brushed back from her face,and it was on with the boots and her surcoat and belt.

"Cloak," said Molly, when Torio jerked at the feeling of chord being drawn about her neck; she patiently held still as it was tied under her chin, and then the hood was thrown over her head. "Get your bags and whatever else you might need."

As Torio slipped her pack on under her shoulders and slipped a few daggers from the storage room into her belt and boots, she heard Molly's voice, "How's he looking, are you gents done yet? We're running out of time..."

Sand was quickly hauled by the much larger Lightfoot into the opposite corner, who said in an amused voice. "Well I see at least you're already halfway undressed." The elf couldn't tell if he was suspecting anything between him and Torio, but if he did, he didn't make further mention of it. "Bend over, Sand," he instructed crisply and placed the small pillow on his back, securing it with bandages. He tossed Sand a shirt and then a robe. "Don't tarry. Hurry!" The clothing was awkward to put on with the pillow strapped to his back and he heard Lightfoot cursing quietly as he tugged the shirt and robe over his hump.

Silverfox had made his way over to them now, powdering Sand's hair white even as he sneezed. He tucked his long hair under the wide-brimmed floppy hat, before Lightfoot began lightly dusting his face with a fine layer of ash. Sand felt somebody lifting his feet and he looked down where Silverfox was putting his boots on. The gnarled walking staff was shoved into his hand, a cloak over his shoulder, followed by his pack and then he was ready.

Lightfoot nodded to Molly, "We're good to go."

Silverfox collapsed into the nearest chair. "We're risking it, moving you so quickly without knowing if the Captain has your papers in order but we have to. If the ship gets searched on the way out of port and you don't have your credentials, he may have to hide you in the cargo. Hope you like fish."

"Fish," muttered Torio under her breath, but they were already being hustled up the stairs. Lightfoot cracked the door, and peered outside; the night was pitch black, and only a small sliver of moon was lighting the street immediately outside of their door. He paused, held up a hand; there was the sound of footsteps walking faintly by, muffled voices, and then silence fell.

He flicked his fingers forward, once; the door swung open and they slipped out into a crooked back alley, the door to the safehouse shutting with a ring of finality behind them.

It was now or never.


	18. Chapter 18

**Volume 2, Part XVIII: Show Me A Trick**

The streets were a bustle of late night activity; harlots, beggars, cutpurses, gamblers, dealers in foreign herbs and rare drugs; most of the common folk were already indoors, shutters shut and locked tightly against the new and oppressive atmosphere rolling off of the small patrols of guardsmen as they made their rounds. The air was tense; she could practically feel it pressing against her. Torio kept her face turned down, one hand barely touching Sand's elbow solicitously...an apprentice helping his master along.

When they reached one corner, Molly and Silverfox turned towards them. "This is where we part ways," said Ringside Molly, and there was a dim flash of white teeth as the lamplights reflected her slight smile. "Good luck to both of you; we owe you much for what you've done."

Silverfox bent down towards Sand's ear, whispering, simply, "Take care of her." The two spies nodded and turned, melting into the shadows nonchalantly and disappearing from sight.

Lightfoot gestured to a set of tall gates. "Thereon lies the docks; lets press on, Master Wizard; you and your apprentice have a ship to catch."

Sand kept his head tilted down and hobbled forward as quickly as an old wizard would be able to. Torio was marching resolutely besides him and Lightfoot was beside her. He could see very little from under his hat and it was frustrating only being able to see legs and cobblestoned streets.

_You'll have to guide me, dear girl. I can't see a blasted thing with this infernal hat._

He kept his ears alert. There was a cacophony of sounds around him: yelling, whispering, cursing, singing, cajoling, seducing... With a start, Sand realized he felt safer among the thieves and whores of Luskan than he did among the merchants and mages. He nearly laughed bitterly - just like at the Docks.

_"...aye there, just a gold piece, a gold piece for the night..."_

_"...give 'er the potion and she'll love ya back, mate..."_

_"...alms for the poor..."_

_"...and I says I'll cut yer throat I will..."_

Funny how no matter what city you were in - Neverwinter or Luskan - the lower classes were all the same. He heard Lightfoot whisper quietly, "We're through the gates now. Now this gets tricky..."

The voices from the alley ways dropped off quickly and around the docks he could hear and smell the sea. Salty, calm, cool - freedom. He heard the lapping of the waves against large wooden ships, the muted cursing of sailors, the occasional squawk of a gull. Sand also heard, in the distance, the steady footsteps of what could only be soldiers. Only soldiers walked with that set rhythm and heaviness.

A voice called out softly to them, "Ahoy! Do cats like fish?" Lightfoot stopped, "Only by night when the tide is in." The first voice replied, "Then the tide is in and let us feed the cats."

They were turning now, headed towards the docks. He could see crates and barrels and everything reeked of fish. He gagged slightly but maintained his composure. His foot hit the wooden planks of the dock when suddenly a very familiar voice greeted them, "A little late, friend, to be taking a ride aboard the Lusty Luskan!"

Abelor.

_Oh dear gods..._

Lightfoot cut right in, his voice smooth and amiable. "Well, Captain, you know how it is; these wizards now-a-days wait for nobody." He gestured rather helplessly towards Sand, shaking his head. "Old man wouldn't even let us stop for a bit of supper. Is everything ready for them?"

Abelor was eyeing both of them rather piercingly; Torio kept her hand firmly on Sand's elbow, sending him a cautious thought; _how much do you think he knows?_

"Aye, we've got as much prepared for their departure as can be. Nice to make your acquaintance, Master Roslyn!" Abelor nodded towards them. "And this is..." His eyes fell on Torio's, and a slight glimmer of recognition flashed through his own for a moment.

_Even with a polymorph spell, her eyes never changed..._

Abelor knew exactly who he was taking on to his ship.

"Jacob," she said gruffly, nodding at the Captain.

"A fair name," said Abelor, his mouth twitching in amusement. "Well, my good men; the tide is rising and I intend to be on it; follow me!"

Abelor turned and strode towards a long boarding plank leading up to a huge, darkened, hulking mass that settled in the water before them. Lightfoot turned to them. "Best of luck to you both," he whispered. "Be careful; Abelor will take you to your destination, but do not trust him completely." He regarded them both steadily. "Fair seas and strong sails to you both; you'll be safe and secure soon enough." He gave them both a slight bow, and left.

Torio gave Sand's arm a firm tug, and with a deep breath, guided his steps as they stepped onto the boarding plank and boarded the Lusty Luskan.

Sand could only follow Torio up the ramp to the Lusty Luskan, trusting her as she guided him around ropes, boxes, andc hests. Abelor was ahead of them, singing a cheery drinking song, acting for all the world like what he was doing was routine business.

Maybe it was.

_"The good young soldier lad...Did find a buxom young damsel fair..._ Hey there! Smitty! Draw in the lines! _Never a man had she had ...So with his sword he took care_... Move handsomely, men!" They reached the helm and Abelor stood there a moment, his thumbs hooked on his belt, watching the crew beneath him, before turning to them. "I'm putting myself, my men and my ship in danger for you. Once we sail, I expect honest answers to my questions. I have been paid for the voyage but to best protect you, I'll need to know what we could possibly face."

Sand nodded mutely. They had made it on the ship. Freedom was so close - just over the dark horizon. At this point, he'd agree to nearly everything.

Abelor reached into his pocket and handed them each parchment. "Your papers, Master Roslyn and Jacob. Now we wait for the harbormaster to grant us leave. He should be here shortly."

Torio kept her head ducked low, standing close to Sand; the bustle of the ship preparing to hoist anchor and depart the docks seemed utter chaos around her, and yet the tang of sea salt on the air and the fresh, cold wind that tickled the sails as they were hoisted and prepared to be stretched taut over the masts promised freedom. _Oh gods, they were so close..._

A cry went up as a dark figure began moving down the docks. There were three other ships preparing to leave as well, and she looked from underneath her hood, watching as a small group of dark shapes boarded every ship in turn. She clutched her identification and permissive papers in her hand easily, her palms hot and dry against the parchment. They were leaving the ship in front of them an approaching their gangplank...

Abelor stepped forward as a tall, staunchly uniformed man and a full squad of guards stepped on board. "A fine evening, Harbor Master Drakken! Welcome aboard my ship once again."

"Let's get this over with, Captain," said the uniformed man, his voice bored and irritated. "I've got another ship still and it'll be twelve bells soon."

"Of course, of course." Abelor gestured to them almost dismissively. "Just the two tonight, Master Drakken, an old mage and his apprentice."

Drakken and his guards approached; the uniformed Harbor Master held out a white-gloved hand, his gesture impatient. "Papers, you two."

Sand silently handed his papers over and watched Torio do the same. The Harbor Master scanned them both quickly; then he frowned and looked over it again, holding them up against the torch light, side by side, comparing them.

Sand's heart sank. They knew something was up...

He turned to Sand, "Master Roslyn is it? Sailing with the Lusty Luskan on her voyage to Tethyr and Calimport. What interests do you have there?"

_Oh gods they expected him to speak..._ He dropped his voice low, raspy. "Eh! The boy needs to get experience at sea. I want an apprentice who can sail for me. Roads too dangerous these days to travel by land. Destination didn't matter."

Drakken tapped the papers against his palm a moment."I see." He glanced at Torio. "How old are you boy? Does he treat you well? Does he teach you much? Show me some of your magic tricks."

Sand interrupted. "Eh! The boy is dull! He'll just be wasting your time."

Drakken held up a hand. "I wasn't speaking to you, old man. Now, Jacob, show me a trick."

Torio's heartrate skyrocketed, but she merely mumbled, "Yessir," and reached into the packing hanging between her shoulders, pulling out a wand...

_...Tymora have mercy on me for once, you miserable old wench..._

She looked up at Drakken from under her hood expectantly. He gestured towards one of the metal rope anvils rising from the deck, and she swallowed hard, pointing the wand towards the small metal structure.

She concentrated...took a breath...flicked her wrist and the wand along with it...

Nothing.

Mentally she cursed; her eyes darted to Drakken's face, who was watching her narrowly. She tried it again, desperately attempting to mimic the movements Sand had shown her. The wand remained passive in her hand, gleaming dull white in the slivered moonlight.

_Shite_.

"'M not vury good, Sir," She said haltingly, dropping the wand to her side. "I practice but Mastuh says 'm duller than a Mere militia captain wit' arusty soup spoon."_ Thank you, Bevil, for proving useful for something at least._ She fidgeted under Drakken's watchful gaze.

The uniformed man kept his eyes on Torio, saying acidly to Sand, "You're telling me, old man, that you have this magicless, dull,and seemingly useless boy as your apprentice?"

Sand snorted even as his mind raced to come up with an excuse, a reason, something. "Eh! His mother made me. The wench blackmailed me, said if I didn't take her son and do something useful with him she'd tell the whole marketplace I watered down the contraceptive potions which resulted her in her getting heavy with the boy." Sand jabbed a hard finger against the side of Torio's head. "That's why he's coming on this trip. If he can't do magic, he can ferry me around."

Drakken eyed them both, his eyes narrowed, his expression shrewd. He held up the parchment again. "I think it's best the two of you step off the ship with me." The guards circled them and began tightening...He turned to Abelor. "You, of course, may keep whatever monies they have given you for their voyage. Of course, tragic things happen at sea - storms and such - do you understand me?"

Abelor nodded. "Of course of course. We have a ship full of cargo that needs to get to their destination. The sooner we leave the better..."

Torio knew, without a doubt, that if they got off that ship they were dead. Hers and Sand's disguises wouldn't stand up to the very pointed questioning that they would no doubt receive...and there was no way come hell or (ironically) high water that she was going to be tortured again. Her or Sand.

Her mind was racing; something clever, unexpected...they were moving towards her, hands reaching..._do something, you're supposed to be a diplomat..._

A meaty, heavy fist clamped down on her arm so fast that she yelped in a surprised, high, un-boyish manner, and whirled, lifting her booted foot up so hard between the guard's legs that the man dropped like a boulder to the deck, releasing her instantly.

Drakken's voice cracked through the air. "Seize them now!"

And then Abelor was there as the sound of drawn steel rang throughout the ship. "To me, lads!" he hollered, drawing a cutlass and squaring off against the Harbor Master and his men.

Without another moment's hesitation, the guards attacked.

The moment Torio attacked, Sand was already fumbling with his component pouch. He knew they needed to dispatch of these guards before reinforcements were called in and he knew now was the time for the big spells. He also realized that he would have to watch what he cast since they were on a ship. A wooden flammable ship.

_Right._

_Fireball - out of the question._

He pulled out the small glass rod and the tiny tuft of fur even as he ducked behind Abelor, who was swinging his sword around with glee, yelling at the same time "Line in, lads, line in! We sail now!" Sand quickly began muttering the incantation for _Chain Lightning_ and then jabbed the glass rod towards the Harbor Master.

Torio dodged back as two more guards lunged for her, swords flashing; Abelor's bulk seemed to momentarily stand between her and any subsequent guards, and she took the moment to switch the wand in her off hand, drawing one of the long, curved daggers from her belt._Should have paid more attention to lessons on weapon use..._

_You don't have to kill them well, you just have to kill them._

She saw the Harbor Master stumble back for a moment, the lightning spell ripping through him and ricocheting between the guards behind him. The man sizzled slightly when he straightened, but he looked disturbingly less injured than Torio knew he should be...She noticed a small glowing outline that clung to Drakken's body as he drew his own weapons, advancing on Sand; a protection spell? But there didn't seem to be any mages with...

A hooded figure at the back of the group stood, incanting while his hands gestured in the air. _Oh._

A sailor was next to her, and then charging past her, throwing himself on one of the guards with a profanity-infused battle cry. The ship creaked and groaned as it pulled away from the harbor suddenly, the gangplank splashing into the water. She could hear shouts, orders, curses from shore as more squads ran towards the boat, but it was too late; the Lusty Luskan turned and began making her way out into the water.

One of the guards spotted her and leapt for her; she raised her curved dagger high and caught his downward swing at the hilt of his blade, a wave of triumph filling her as she effectively blocked his strike; then, almost instantaneously, a hand connected with her cheek, the blow knocking her off of her feet. Her face exploded in a riot of hot, sharp pain as she felt the deck slam into her backside. Abelor was to her right, and she watched with stunned fascination as his sword arced towards the guard; she kicked out, her foot catching on the man's knee, a satisfying squick! meeting her efforts. The guard hollered, Abelor lunged, and the sword sank into his side.

Her head swam as she was hauled to her feet. "Not the fighting type, are you?"

"The improvising type," she replied shakily, and then Abelor was off, rushing to help Sand...

Sand nearly fell over when the ship lurched away from shore; he had been too occupied by Drakken who was now barreling towards him, sword raised and looking less fried than he should have been. Torio seemed to be holding up all right on her own but he needed to - or rather - wanted to get closer to her. He scrambled backwards, buying himself more time to cast a spell but then tripped over a prone body lying on the deck of the ship, dropping the useless gnarled staff.

Gods be damned -he couldn't see a blasted thing in this hat!

He yanked the hat off his head, feeling his hair fall around his face, and tossed it aside even as Drakken was brining the sword up and then down towards his head.There was no time to look for components, no time to consider the value of casting one spell over another; Sand shut his eyes and cast the first spell that came to mind,_Power Word Stun_, on the Harbor Master.

There was a moment of breathless anticipation where Sand waited to see if his spell or the sword would come first and then...nothing. He opened one eye and then the other,and then looked up. Drakken was standing in front of him, not moving, the sword inches from his face. He sighed in relief and then backed up further.

Abelor ran up to him. "Good job! We'll take him prisoner; maybe we can ransom him off or something. How long does the spell last?"

"A couple of minutes, at best estimate. Tie him up now or else here's your best chance to kill him." Sand left Abelor to do what he wished with Drakken and then ducked and dodged his way over to Torio. "Dear girl,I know how much you like being invisible..." He had the two components ready in his hand, the gum arabic and the eyelash, and cast _Greater Invisibility_ on her. "I'm going after the mage!"

Torio lurched slightly at suddenly looking down and seeing herself disappear from view, but there was no time; the guards and Abelor's sailors were still at it, and Sand was saying something about the mage...

She thought to him, _Be careful, Bodaes_, and then she ran into the fray, slashing and hacking inexpertly but effectively with her knife. The guards wore chain; she was able to take her time thanks to the invisibility spell, locate the small creases, cracks, and grooves that were present in every suit of armor, and slide her small, curved blade between them with inexorable patience. It would have almost been amusing if she wasn't desperately trying not to die at the moment; a guard would fight a sailor, and then suddenly he would fall, screaming, and blood would be rushing from a sudden wound that by no rights should be there.

The hooded mage watched unperturbedly as Sand rushed towards him. His hands were gesturing in the air, and as Sand came within a few feet there was a pop! of light and then _Hold Person _settled down onto Sand's body. The mage walked forward, seemingly oblivious to the carnage and chaos around them, and reached out, touching a gloved finger to Sand's face. Abelor was shouting something, and the sound of approaching, booted feet could be heard sprinting across the deck, but the mage ignored it all.

"Sand," said a low, gutteral voice. "Leaving Luskan so soon?"

Had the situation not been so serious, Sand might have been embarrassed at being caught by such a low level spell. He had been distracted, in the midst of the incantation for a _Greater Dispel_ when he felt the spell sink into his limbs first. He tried fighting the spell, but it was too late: the paralytic effects crept up to his shoulder, then like a disease spread through his torso and up his neck to his head.

He stood there frozen on the deck, a strange living, breathing statue with fingers outstretched. He could watch and hear the fighting and dying around him. He couldn't see Torio and wondered briefly if he should reach out to her. Too risky.

Sand looked back the mage before him, struggling against the spell to speak, his tongue feeling thick and sluggish. "I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome. I'm afraid I don't believe we've been properly introduced?" _If he could just wiggle a finger..._

There was a small, clear patch that Torio stood in for a moment, gasping for breath; the_Greater Invisibility_ still cloaked her, and she scanned wildly around, looking for Sand...

He was standing, unmoving, in front of the mage that had been casting earlier, and even as she watched a group of Abelor's men rushed forward, throwing themselves at the cloaked figure.

The mage lifted his hands, casting _Sonic Rumble_...the ship shook as a deep, sonorous, rhythmic pounding rolled over it, knocking everyone immediately close to the mage off of their feet, and causing everyone else on the ship to stumble haphazardly around as the Lusty Luskan keeled wildly on the waters. The ship itself was approaching the blockaded exit to the harbor, the boats forming the blockade teeming with confused crewmen and captains alike as they shouted for their guns to be readied.

Torio steadied herself on her feet and pulled the cumbersome cloak from her shoulders; she vaguely saw it reappear out of thin air as she sprinted across the re-aligned deck, desperately running for where the mage held Sand fast in a spell.

The mage pulled back his hood as sailors and guards spilled to the deck around them in the aftereffects of the spell. His face was lean, grey skin spiderwebbed with a network of scars; one such scar sliced down across his eye, rendering it cloudy white and sightless. The man's bald head was marked with a strange glyph...and he reached up, stroking his oiled, curled, long black beard, his mouth flitting into a smile. "Come now, elf," he said, "after all the time we spent together, and you don't even remember me?" The effects of the mage's _Hold Person _were wearing off, and he began gesturing, readying another spell. "You were a rather dull pupil, apprentice; too many moral conjectures and not enough raw drive. I am not terribly surprised to find you here amongst the rabble..."

Sand felt his insides ice over, a wave of irrational fear sweeping through him. He never thought he'd see this man again and his mind was dragged unwittingly back to his time at the Hosttower: helping the other apprentices dig up corpses from the graveyard for necromantic experiments, and then having to dispose of the fleshy remains when they were done,testing poisons and their antidotes on beggars, setting magical glyphs and traps for the apprentices of other mages, until finally they started training him in the ways of magical torture.

That was when he left - after the first torture session he ever conducted. The screams of the man, some poor farmer captured trespassing on Luskan lands, haunted him for days, rendering him sleepless until he resorted to taking sleeping potions to get any rest. He had wanted to stop but knew that refusal would mean his death. It took weeks of careful planning before he was able to escape to Neverwinter and beg for protection.

It was an awful time of his life, one he had struggled to forget. He had no idea where Torio was but sent her a strong message: _Stay away. He is dangerous._

"The space in my mind is valuable, Master Yarreth, I wouldn't want to waste it on you and my time here." He could move his fingers and toes now and he struggled to get his hands free. "I think you will find your former 'dull' pupil now has something to teach you." He began the recitation for _Power Word Kill_, hoping that resisting the spell would cause Yarreth to lose his concentration.

Torio hesitated; once the hood fell back from the man's face she thought she vaguely recognized him...and then Sand's mental bolt of a warning shot through her head and she nearly staggered from the force of his vehemence. She crept forward slowly, circling around towards Yarreth's back; the men around Sand and the mage were staggering to their feet, steel leveling towards both of them as guards and sailors alike circled around them. 

"An impressive attempt, little elf." The mage's body glowed briefly as Sand's spell thudded into him, ineffective; two of the sailors lunged forward, attempting to take out the cloaked man, while one of the guards leaps towards Sand. Yarreth's _Hold Person_ was now almost completely worn off, but the mage's spellcasting was effectively interrupted; he jumped back from the attacking sailors, his face twisted slightly in a frown; one of the sailor's sword clipped the man on the shoulder, and he hissed as a shallow gash slices through his poorly protected skin; the other sailor missed completely.

Abelor's voice suddenly rang over the deck, "Ahoy, my fair Captains! Fire on this ship at your peril!" The sounds of fighting died down for a moment as every head turned; The Lusty Luskan was slowly sailing through the opening in the blockade, with every ship within firing range pointing their cannons towards the ship's hull. High above the deck, strung up like a veritable sow for slaughter, was Harbor Master Drakken, hanging by his ankles for the entire harbor to see. "We'll send him back to you in one piece once we're on the high seas!"

There was a howling, frustrated cacophony from the ships around them; Drakkan was struggling against his bonds, the gag in his mouth muffling the outraged cursing spilling from his throat. Abelor stood below on the deck, holding the rope that held the Harbor Master steady while the Lusty Luskan pushed out through the blockade and spilled out into the edge of open waters.

There was a reason why Sand stayed back from one-on-one battle and as the guard's blade sank clean through his shoulder, he remembered why. He had enough mobility now that he staggered stiffly back, watching his body remove itself from the blade, which was now coated in a dark crimson.

His blood.

And it hurt like a banshee.

The guard was taking another swing at him and Sand cast the quickest, most instinctive spell he could - _Magic Missiles_ - at the man, and watched, satisfied as the man stumbled back, yelling in pain as the white balls of energy smacked into him successively. _When in doubt, magic missile._

Torio felt an involuntary gasp rip from her throat at the guard's blade struck true into Sand's body, and then a terrible, hot red mist seemed to tug at the corners of her eyes...she leapt forward, snapping the wand in her off hand, and quite suddenly a blast of frost shot from the tip, spraying two of the heavily chainmailed guards and grazing one of the sailors. 

Oh bloody hells,_finally_!

One of the other guards was howling on the deck, ducking as small missiles barraged his head and shoulders; she could see Sand, bleeding and staggering, around the edge of Yarreth's body as the mage recollected himself and began gesturing, casting a spell she didn't recognize.

The arm of the injured shoulder was beginning to go numb and Sand could feel himself getting light-headed from the blood loss. It was sheer chaos around him, with the yelling from the ships surrounding them, Drakken above them and Abelor commanding his men and Sand blinked, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to focus. A pair of guards in front of him were stepping around the guard he had injured a moment before when sudden a random spray of cold burst from mid-air, slamming into them.

Torio.

She got the wand to work!

Despite the immediate danger Sand couldn't help feel immensely proud,thinking to her:_Well done, dear girl. Did you flick your wrist like I told you to?_

With his uninjured arm, Sand held his hand to the wound trying to staunch the blood flow even as he backed away slowly and woodenly from the guard. Damn this_Hold_ spell. He hoped the sailors would be able to distract Yarreth long enough for him to get another spell in. He fumbled with hi sspell reagents for a moment before finding the tiny piece of platinum and began casting _Mordenkainen's Sword_.

A sword materialized in the air near Yarreth's head and began barraging the mage, swiping at the man and making small, neat little cuts that bled instantly. Yarreth's spellcasting continued, however, and as he finished the words of the spell his hands seemed to pop with energy...Blue bolts of light shot form his fingers, heading towards Sand. 

Torio slipped behind him, flipped the grip on her dagger, and rammed it forward, driving it deep into the mage's back.

The feeling that they might have turned the tide of this battle was short-lived. Sand saw the flashes of light coming for him and before he could avoid the incoming spell, they blasted him hard in the chest before bouncing away, slamming into all the nearest sailors, eliciting screams of pain. He saw Yarreth suddenly give a gurgling yell before sinking to the deck of the ship, the magical sword and some unseen assailant pinning him between them. Sand staggered, sending the sword to the next guard even as he watched the life dim from his old master's eyes, before collapsing on the deck unconscious, the blood pooling out around him.


	19. Chapter 19

Volume 2, Part XIX: Foreshadowing

**Volume 2, Part XIX: Foreshadowing**

Torio staggered forward as Yarreth fell, the weight of the mage's body taking her with it. She heard, ludicrously enough, Sand's weak, flitting thoughts… _Did you flick your wrist like I told you to?_ And then nothing but a thick, dull blankness; she felt a strange, tingling pin-prickle spread around her body, and saw her hands materialize in front of her; Her hands were stained scarlet, gripping wetly around a bloodied hilt still buried in Yarreth's back. The invisibility spell was wearing off.

She looked up in time to see Sand crumple in a heap on the deck of the ship. Torio pushed herself to her feet, staggering away from the mage; the two semi-frozen guards were being set upon by the remaining sailors, while Abelor was fighting off the last one, one handed, his free hand gripping the rope that held Drakken high; the Harbor Master was bobbing up and down in a sickening dance as Abelor moved around the deck below him. She swung her small pack over in front of her as she skidded to a halt above Sand's body. Damn! The spies hadn't labeled anything; did blue mean healing? She fell to her knees, pulling the cork from the top of a blue potion and rolling Sand over.

"Oh gods..." she fought down a wave of panic as her eyes took in the deep, cleaving wound in his shoulder; the wooden deck beneath him was stained, soaking up the blood as quickly as it poured out of him. She tilted his head back, prayed she didn't accidentally drown him, and slowly began pouring the potion down his throat.

Sand's only realization that he had indeed passed out, was when he was yanked back from the blackness by somebody draining a healing vial into his mouth. And of course by the pain which radiated from his shoulder, to his chest and arms. He coughed and sputtered and feebly attempted to wave the person away. "Pain." At least when he was unconscious he didn't feel anything.

He opened his eyes and saw Torio above him, the corner of her eyes creased with worry. He opened his mouth to speak and only got more of the potion down his throat for his efforts, and then gagged again. But it was working: he felt the liquid course through his body, closing the wound and knitting the muscles back together. The numbness was still there in his arm but it wasn't as bad as before.

He closed his eyes again, reaching up and taking her hand, hoping that the battle was near done and that they would be free soon. _And that, dear girl, is why I am a lover, not a fighter._

Torio watched as Sand coughed and gurgled against the rest of the potion, but at least it went down. She felt his fingers twitch, shift, and slip into her own and she released the breath she had been holding. She pulled the cork from another bottle when the first one emptied. _And what an excellent lover you make. _She glanced up, watching as the two guards nearest to them were tossed unceremoniously over the boat, their chainmailed, mortally wounded bodies splashing spectacularly into the sea. The sailors all surrounded the last remaining guard, Abelor's almost maniacal laughter mingling with the hoarse battle cries and the gurgling scream of the dying man.

The second potion was finally emptied into Sand's mouth. She watched, fascinated, as the wound closed in front of her eyes, flesh stretching out over the bloody gap and grasping together, knitting and weaving until the wound was merely a mottled, painful looking welt that ran across his shoulder and down his chest.

A third splash finally announced the "departure" of the last guard. There was a scramble of booted feet, and then they were suddenly and inescapably surrounded by sailors at varying levels of injury. The pointed tip of a rapier caught under chin, and pressed against her flesh; she stood, placing herself over Sand's body as Abelor's blade drew her upwards until he could look her in the eye.

"Well, Master 'Jacob'," said Abelor amiably. "I believe, since we've saved you and your wizard's life here, you might answer a few questions of mine." His eyebrows arched over his eyes jauntily. "Or you can join Master Drakken's friends in the Sea, if you prefer."

Torio watched him carefully; Abelor's eyes were shrewd and intelligent, belying his outward demeanor of the bellowing, amiable sea captain. "I'll answer whatever questions you have," she said evenly. "Provided you move my...my Master, here, somewhere more comfortable."

Abelor's mouth twitched in a half-smile; he withdrew his rapier, sheathing it, and suddenly the crew came alive; Sand was hauled up off of the deck, and the men dispersed, two of them carrying the wizard towards the Captain's cabin while the rest began cleaning up the deck, throwing scattered bodies over the edge of the boat and unfurling the sails fully, catching the wind. Torio held up a hand and moved to where Yarreth's body still lay face down in the deck. She pressed her booted foot against the mage's back and yanked out her dagger...almost absently, as an afterthought, she straddled the mage's body, gripped his bald-head, pulled it back, and sliced the wizard's throat; dead or almost dead, certain was certain.

She stood, sheathing the dagger in her waist, and nodded at Abelor wearily. "Shall we?"

The flurry of activity around his head was much too confusing for Sand to follow. All he knew was that he was being carried rather roughly by two sailors below deck and that him and Torio were both alive. That was a start. His shoulder was healed but any strong movements sent sharp needles of pain up his spine. Luskan had not been kind to either of his shoulders, it seemed.

He was half-hauled, half-tossed onto a small bed, before the two sailors retreated and he heard footsteps following him into the room. The door closed firmly and was locked. Sand risked opening his eyes.

He was lying in the Captain's quarters. He could tell by the way it was decorated: richly woven Amnish rugs, charts and maps scattered on tables, decorative cutlasses and rapiers on the wall. A shrunken head hanging from a candelabrum, for added atmosphere. A small cabinet held glasses and bottles of liquor and wines.

Torio was still in her disguise, her hands covered in blood. There was a large purple bruise starting to form on her cheek. Abelor looked none the worse for wear, considering the scale of the battle. In fact, he had a bit of a pleased flush to his face.

Abelor went immediately to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle with a dark, golden brown liquid and three small crystal glasses. "Spiced rum from Tethyr. Goes down nice as a victory drink." He slowly and carefully poured each of them a glass, giving Torio the first goblet with a small bow before helping Sand to a sitting position and handing him the alcohol. "To a most spectacular exit from Luskan! Here's hoping I can bribe enough people so I can return to the City of Sails. The Lusty Waterdhavian just doesn't have the same ring." He smacked his lips. "Very impressed with your efficiently, 'Jacob'. You've killed before, I take it."

Torio eyed the glass in her hand for a moment, before drinking it down; the alcohol burned the back of her throat, and she coughed briefly, her eyes beginning to water. "I doubt you'd find a soul living today that hasn't killed before, Captain Abelor." Her voice sounded tight from the traces of rum, and she cleared her throat, all pretense of playing the dullard apprentice gone; Torio had a feeling that Abelor hadn't bought into it regardless. She leaned against the wall of the cabin wearily; her face was beginning to throb with every beat of her pulse, the beginnings of a headache lancing through her skull.

Her eyes darted towards Sand; _Are you all right, bodaes_? She couldn't help noting the copious amount of blood staining the front of his robe with a downward pull of her mouth. _Heaven forbid we actually travel anywhere without leaving half of ourselves staining the ground behind us_.

Sand tossed the rum back and coughed, which only caused the ache in his torso to worsen. He inhaled, closing his eyes, letting the burn of the alcohol warm him from the inside. _I'll be all right, Helkaer, hanging on by my fingernails here but it's not like I haven't done that before. How_ _are you?_

Torio looked back towards Abelor. "I suppose I should ask you, Captain...how much were you told when our...friends garnered us passage on your ship?"

Abelor was pouring himself more of the rum. "Only that papers were required to smuggle a wizard and his apprentice out of Luskan and into Neverwinter's waters. And that it would be a risky but well paying venture. Very well paying." He sat on the edge of the desk and gesture for Torio to sit at one of the cushioned high back chairs. "You know, in a strange way, the lady 'Nagendra' did come see me at my ship and without her husband in tow." He laughed jovially. "Abelor gets his wish after all. Will you keep a lonely ship's Captain company tonight?"

Abelor's frankly appraising stare caught her off guard as she sank into the cushioned chair, and for a moment she froze, utterly dismayed..._am I going to have to bed every living creature between here and Crossroad Keep just to survive another day?_

A small wave of alarm washed through Sand at the thought of Abelor making less than wholesome advances towards Torio now that they were at his mercy aboard his ship. He may not have been able to save her from Asrar, but he wasn't about to her flounder this time. He slid off the bed, grimacing, and hobbled pathetically over closer to them, leaning heavily on the chair. "Actually - good captain - have you not heard? We've become recently engaged to be married." _Play along, dear girl. _

Sand was dragging himself forward...Torio felt her face go completely smooth, expressionless and empty for only a brief moment, before she shot a sly smile towards Abelor. "A little too late, captain," she said amiably. "I'm afraid my company's needed elsewhere tonight." _I hope this works, bodaes...you do realize that even posing as a married couple in Luskan, I still had to..._

She cut the thought off at once; she suddenly and very acutely didn't want Sand to know the details of what had happened in Asrar's manse, and instead, asked evenly, "But there must be some other way we can repay you..." She arched a brow meaningfully, "...and perhaps ensure your discretion?"

The more time Sand spent with Torio, the more impressed he was at her ability to pick up and run with a lie without missing a beat. At the same time, it slightly worried him, as he would have no idea if she was ever lying to him.

He felt her cut off her thoughts suddenly from him. It was almost jarring but he didn't risk looking at her. Something had happened at Asrar's; Sand could feel it, sense it brewing lowly in her mind, something she was still refusing to acknowledge or talk about. He frowned slightly but Abelor was talking in that loud boisterous voice of his, his eyes glinting...

"My organization is always in need of capable people like yourselves. Perhaps a favor to be named in the future would be a good way to go about it."

Sand shook his head firmly. "That price is a little steep for us. What organization is this? We don't know anything about what you could ask us to do, and if you do forgive us, after all we've recently gone through, I think we're justified in our suspicions."

Abelor polished off his glass of rum. "Aye aye, fair enough. I'm a mercenary, this much is true. I sail for the highest bidder; just so happens the highest bidder is nearly always the Shadow thieves. We're always in need of people who can do infiltrations, work with information; and the both of you are very very capable of that." He shook his head, amazed. "Sneaking into Luskan and then sneaking back out with your lives. Never thought I'd see it done."

Sand glanced at Torio, her expression unreadable. "We'll consider it and let you know." _Shadow thieves - what do you know of them, dear girl?_

_Tricky at best, Sand...based out of Athkatla, they tend to honor deals when it suits them best. It would...put us at odds with Nasher, of that I have no doubt. If he discovered the arrangement, of course._

Abelor nodded and then clapped his large hands together. "On to happier and more personal news then. Congratulations! When I saw you both - mind you as Tanith and Nagendra - I saw some real sparks. Should have figured." He gave Sand a hard smack on the back, nearly sending the wizard to the floor again. "You lucky old salt! I should make you walk the plank to free up the lady again." He threw his head back and laughed loudly. "I'm kidding of course. Mostly."

Abelor stood and went back to his liquor cabinet. "This calls for champagne!" The captain popped the cork expertly and poured them all a flute of the sparkling liquid. "You know, as a ship's captain, I can perform marriages. What do you say?"

Her mind was turning, trying to process what Abelor was offering them, when the Captain also offered her a fluted glass of champagne and the offered to marry them on the spot. Her fingers squeezed the glass momentarily; for a moment, she had a horrifying vision of herself in a frothy wedding gown, standing on the deck of the Lusty Luskan; she felt her blood rush from her face, but she merely smiled a little thinly up at the boisterous man. "It's a tempting offer; we shall have to think on it, won't we?" She glanced over at Sand, her eyes wide. "I hadn't considered a wedding at sea."

_I hadn't considered a wedding at all, technically._

"Both of your offers are generous, Abelor" she said, after taking a long, soothing drink from the champagne glass. "We'll consider them carefully; do you have a place we could..." she winced as she used the crass terminology, "…hole up in on ship while we do so? We both have wounds that need tending to."

Abelor stood graciously. "Of course. I offer you both the Captain's suite; I can't be sending the lady down to the crew's quarters! Torio - as far as I know, my men still think you're Jacob, the apprentice. As for you, Sand - well - I'll come up with something but they shouldn't know you or anything about you so I believe you identity is safe." He began tidying up, folding charts and shoving papers into drawers, before locking them. "Try to stay out of the way of my sailors. It'll raise fewer questions."


	20. Chapter 20

**Volume 2, Part XX: An Honest Woman  
**

Sand watched him leave and then collapsed into the chair. "I'm sorry dear girl, I didn't mean to be presumptuous about...ah...marriages and all but it did keep him away from you. He has more honor than some, for a man naming his ship the Lusty Luskan."

He looked at her again. There was definitely a hand-shaped bruise on her face and he winced in sympathy. "You're hurt, my dear Torio. Do we have any healing potions left?"

Torio nearly sagged with relief when Abelor left; she had to admit, the man was growing on her, but she didn't exactly relish the thought of spending the night with him.

In all actuality, she realized as she stood up from her chair and moved to where her pack had been dropped, she wasn't relishing the thought of spending the night with anyone unless they were a certain sharp-witted moon elf. She knelt by her pack and pulled it open, sifting through the bottles; her mind wandered...she imagined having Sand as an ever constant presence at her side. A steadfast companion, always a full bed...a full heart. She cleared her throat, pulling the last two healing potions from the pack. "I'm not as hurt as you, you stubborn elf," she said quietly, walking back over to where he sat. She stood over his chair, pulling the cork from one of the bottles and handing it to him.

His face softened as he took the potions. "You saved my life, didn't you?"

She smirked down at him, her voice wry. "Only as much as you've saved mine." By the gods, but weren't those words true on multiple levels. Her eyes grew soft as she bent forward and pressed her lips against his forehead; she could smell the traces of powder still in his hair, and underneath it the worn, electric buzzing of magic. "Do you honestly think I would let you die and leave me alone on this ship? Presumptuous or no, Bodaes, I'd have no way to deflect Abelor without you." Her words were light, but her voice broke slightly as it rolled around the word _alone_. She kissed his face again, before pulling the stopper from the last potion and drinking it herself, feeling the liquid tingle even as it slid down her throat. The incessant throbbing in her face lessened, and she sat down across from him, setting the empty bottle down on one of the map-covered tables with a _thunk._

Torio reached out and took his hand after a moment. "Besides, needs must. It worked, didn't it?" She shook her head, chuckling, a bitter edge to her light toned voice. "Can you even imagine me as a bride? I'm not even sure Deneir resides over weddings; he assumes his faithful are beings of intelligent mettle." Her eyes grew distant, her thumb running over the backs of Sand's knuckles, and then she snorted wryly. "Besides, I do not think I...belong in white."

The potion went down easily, burning less than the rum did but not tasting as pleasant as the champagne. Sand watched her thumb stroking his hand. The purple bruising and swelling was finally starting to go down, but the bone of the knuckle was still raised where the heal spell had mended it days ago. Her own hands were still coated in dried blood. He stood, teetered a moment lightheadedly, and then led her to a nearby ceramic wash basin. The water was cold but at least it was clear. Sand began slowly scrubbing her hands of the blood, watching the water turn brown as he rinsed out the cloth.

"First off, dear girl, I'm not stubborn, just correct most of the time." He wrung out the cloth and watched the small eddies and vortices swirl in the water. Some of this blood was his old Master's blood. She had killed Yarreth. She had, with that curved little dagger of hers, severed his past from him and set him free. A weighted fear he never knew he carried was suddenly lifted from his shoulders. There would be no one now, no one from Luskan who would be able to step forward and reveal all those secrets he had fought so long and so hard to keep cloaked.

"Secondly, when I tell you to stay away, you should. Yarreth is as dangerous a Luskanite as they come. He makes Gweynn's antics like amateurish. He would have killed you ...and...done things to you so that all the diamonds and magic in Faerun wouldn't have been able to bring you back." The memory of creeping through the graveyards with a shovel was haunting the back of his mind. The thought of losing her forever (forever had such a definitive sound of finality to it) made him pale. "You are a foolish girl, Torio Claven." He leaned forward and kissed her over the wash basin. "I hate owing my life to a fool."

Sand examined her fingernails, which still had traces of crimson under them and then laughed at the idea of her in a white gown, especially with her hands covered in blood and the dagger hidden under the skirt. Absurdedly and possibly the most lethal bride ever to be seen in all of Faerun. "You could always wear red. By Mystra, we seem to wear enough of it." He could see where his robe was stained, really nearly soaked through with his blood. "And truth be told, I have no idea what Mystra's marriage practices are either." He smirked. "Let us hope they don't require you to wave a wand about because then it would take mortal danger for you to ever succeed."

Torio flexed her fingers as he washed them, her mind's eye going back to how said delicate fingers had plunged the poisoned comb into Asrar's body, and then to the way the blood as spilled over her fingers as the knife had slit Yarreth's throat. Her hands seemed constantly bloodied...

...even when she had clasped them adroitly behind her back, her face pale and cold, Garius beside her; the pale, shimmering, magical image of Ember, summoned before their eyes so that the self-styled Master of the Fifth Tower could watch his plan unfold; the image of Lorne, wading into the countless villagers with his falchion raised high...

She watched Sand's fingers rub the blood from her skin, watched it trail down into the basin of water. "Foolish, mayhaps. But alive." She shook the water from her hands and then grasped his. "What could I have done, Sand, watch him kill you? And thank the stars that I had simply stood there, doing nothing?" There were hard lines in her eyes as she looked at him. "I've stood, and done nothing, enough in my life; I've had my fill of it."

Torio looked down at his hand, tracing the faded bruised marks with her finger. She remembered the fleeting image she had caught when in the safehouse; Sand's fist slamming into a wall. "Nor," she said quietly, meeting his eyes, her own narrowed at him somewhat shrewdly, "do I think you enjoy having to stand to the side either." She bent her head down and pressed her lips against his marked knuckles, then turned his hand over and spread his fingers wide, kissing his palm. "So thank the heavens for small mercies, that we are both still alive, and spare me the talk on how foolhardy and impetuous and human I am."

She straightened, giving him a once over with her eyes, and smirked, her voice light. "Red seems to be our color of choice. I don't suppose we could help it, either; there's not a stitch of clothing we've worn since we've left the Keep that hasn't been stained with blood. Why not wedding accoutrements, as well?"

Sand began slowly pulling off the robe, the damp fabric sticking wetly to his skin. He hung the ruined robe on a hook by the door and then began unwrapping the bandages that held the small day pillow in place. "Well if I had been killed, you could have found ten thousand gold pieces worth of diamonds and a capable cleric - Zhjaeve's quite good if you can get past her 'knows' and 'knows nots' - to bring me back." He was only half joking as he said this; it was information he wanted her to know and to consider in case the inevitable ever did happen.

He glanced in the small mirror hanging nearby and gingerly touched the wound. The skin was reddish purple where the blood was coagulating and he could see the thin straight scar of where the blade had gone through. Any lower and he realized he might not still be standing. "I certainly think the...situation with Asrar is a little different, dear girl. There was no risk to my life and yet I failed to do something. It still bothers me." He watched her through the mirror before continuing, "In any case, yes I am thankful we're still both alive, and as much as I'll lecture you on your foolish impetuous human ways, you know that is what I love about you, my dear Torio." Sand turned back around and picked the cloth, wiping his shoulder and chest down.

Torio shrugged out of her surcoat, watching as Sand peeled off of his robe; her eyes stormed over as she eyed the half-healed wound in his shoulder. "There would have been risk enough had you tried anything, bodaes," she said evenly. "We would have failed, and that would have meant death, or complete and utter disgrace...and then death." She lifted her tunic up for a moment, turning towards the wall, and began untying the binding around her chest, letting out a breath of relief as the tight, webbed fabric loosened its grip on her torso. She could almost hear her ribs creak. "In any case, I wasn't...hurt." She remembered the isolated, yawning loneliness she had felt huddled on Asrar's bed, completely unable to touch Sand's mind with her own, and shuddered slightly.

The webbing fell to the floor at her feet and she pulled her tunic down once again, her mouth curling in a brief, tired smile. She turned around; Sand was rubbing the not-so dried blood off of his chest, and she watched him for a moment, his movements slow and slightly pained, the lean, lissome muscles stretching and contracting beneath his smooth skin as he worked. She felt her blood stir, a faint pang of desire sluice through her, and her mouth quirked in a amusement; come bandits, torturers, pirates, evil mages or life threatening poisons, she would probably still start imagining all sorts of inproprieties the moment Sand began removing clothing.

"Weddings." He snorted, and then chuckled. "Perhaps one day I'll make an honest woman out of you yet. Goodness knows you won't be able to do it yourself."

"Make me an honest woman? How noble of you to sacrifice yourself for such an endeavor." Her mind tumbled over itself; it was dangerous, to joke about such things, and especially so for her, when she knew she would most likely not even see the worst of the results of such a theoretical "union." The real trouble would start once she was cold and sleeping in the ground. And she wasn't one to fool herself into thinking she'd live to be an old woman; people like her found early graves, or early graves found them. She had made too many enemies in her life to think otherwise.

She couldn't...or wouldn't...imagine Sand laying a human wife in the soil of Toril and continuing onward as if nothing had happened. She could barely face the thought of having him returned from high adventure around the countryside in a box, herself. _Time and fevers burn away..._

_But in my arms, til break of day..._

Sand sunk down into the high back chair and pulled Torio onto his lap, nuzzling her affectionately. "The challenge of making you an honest woman is one I look forward to, dear girl. Almost as much as moving all of Toril itself."

She sank against his lap, chuckling. "Ha! Gods-speed you, then; mayhaps by the time you've managed to move Toril I'll have been nudged a step closer to honesty." She slid her arms around his neck; his bare chest felt cool against her body, pressing through her tunic, and she tapped her fingers against it lightly.

Her fingers took the cloth from his hands, and began wiping the last of the blood from his skin herself. "We'll have to get you more potions...or maybe the ship has a cleric," she said quietly, keeping her eyes down on her task. "Otherwise you'll be in for a long and uncomfortable journey." Her fingers brushed across the wound in his shoulder gently, her voice unusually rough. "And I don't relish listening to your complaints."

Sand watched her carefully tend to his wounds. Her touch was tender, careful even though her words were not. "Oh let's not bother our good friend Abelor. Who knows what price he'll charge for a potion? Service aboard his ship for a century and a day? As it is, we may already be trapped working for the Shadow Thieves. Which, I may add, is probably no more treacherous than working for Nasher, if the irony amuses you." He caught her hands in his and pulled her in for a kiss, parting her lips with his tongue. Underneath the salty sea air, she still smelled like Torio - spy, wizard-killer, elf-lover, wine-drinker and woman. He pulled back, feeling better than he had in a long time.

"But in all seriousness - we should consider Abelor's offer. The shadow thieves may be able to get us places where Nasher can not." He spoke with his mouth still lightly pressed against hers.

"Working for the Shadow Thieves...this will definitely prove a tricky business." She snorted. "Since it's the price he's called for in exchange for our safe passage, I doubt we'd have much room to negotiate. Still..." She walked her fingers up his chest, lightly running them along his collarbone. "...we should at least reserve the right to choose our missions; we can't completely undermine our positions in Neverwinter or else we'll simply be exchanging a watery grave for a hangman's noose."

"I promise I won't complain about any wounds, mortally grievous or otherwise, dear girl. I swear, after everything we've gone through, I'll never complain again. I suppose torture has a way of putting things into perspective.

Sand began stroking the back of her neck as he replied, "Give me a night's rest before we negotiate with Abelor. I'll memorize spells tonight that can save us from the water in a pinch. I'd rather not have to swim or even fly back to Neverwinter but...if worse comes to absolute worse, we have options, dear girl. Which was more than we had before." He felt a surge of a prickly protectiveness and he realized he'd never let her out of his sight if he could help it.

Torio thought of swimming through the Sea of Swords; dodging the countless underwater creatures that undoubtedly thrived in its waters made her skin crawl. "Better than nothing, I suppose; definitely a finale that would be keeping in pace with the rest of this Gods-forsaken mission."

She let out a happy whimper as his lips began brushing along her neck, tilting her head back slightly...and then she laughed. "I must look a mess...and look at you, master wizard, making free with your apprentice." Her fingers tip-toed up the side of his neck under the edge of his jaw line and along the curving shell of his pointed ear. "Although I'm not used to having an audience." She gestured to the shrunken head hanging amiably from the candelabra across the small cabin.

Torio brushed her fingers around the tip of his ear and up through his hair, some of the powder sifting from the strands and falling to the floor behind the chair. Damn these crude disguises. She shook her head, and stood, letting her hand trail across his chest as she maneuvered towards the wash basin; she splashed the water from the pitcher over her face and up through her hair...no wonder seamen have such reputations for being unwashed vagabonds. Feeling slightly more human, she walked towards the small bed, falling back against it with a whoosh of exhaled breath, her arms spread-eagled across the thick mattress. "I never thought I'd say this," she said wryly, "but I find myself intensely eager to be back at Crossroads Keep." She snorted. "There's a slice of ironic 'perspective' for you, Bodaes."

Sand smirked and then stood as well. He went to the shrunken head and turned it around so that it faced the wall. "Not used to having an audience, dear girl? That's surprising, considering your past."

She snorted laughingly. "Not too many 'associates' in my past were interested in simple watching, dear Sand. And none of them looked like shrunken heads." _Although a few of them were close. _

Sand tumbled onto the bed after her. "Hmm. Yes I suppose back trapped within the walls of the Keep - at least you'd be safe and alive. Though with the addition of the _Permanency_ spell on your bracelet, we can venture further away now. I should clone you. We'll just leave your copy at the Keep, teach it to disagree with everything Kana and Nevalle says and you'll be free." His eyes glittered playfully. He lifted her shirt and kissed her stomach, before resting his head on her skin, his cheeks feeling the slight raises of the white scars.

She stretched out languidly as she felt his lips press against her stomach; one hand slid across his shoulder and rested lightly against the back of his head. Sand continued to kiss her stomach lightly, doing his best to ignore the scars. They didn't actually bother him but he suspected they bothered her. He traveled with fighters, warriors - scars were common place. But Torio wasn't a common woman. He exhaled lightly into her skin, "What will you ask of Nasher as a reward upon our glorious and victorious return?"

Her mind immediately jumped to the bracelet, although all thoughts aside she had nearly forgotten it was there since leaving the Keep; it had remained cool and benign without the spells weighing it down against her body, and she slipped her hand from behind her head, cocking her wrist and eyeing the silver band thoughtfully. Freedom for me, in exchange for what?

Or maybe not freedom for you...would Nasher release Sand from service if she demanded it as her reward? The elf wouldn't be obligated to the Knight Captains any longer, and he could leave, travel somewhere where the Illefarn empire and the Guardian King of Shadows had never been heard of...

And knowing Sand, he'd still stay after it was all said and done.

She exhaled bemusedly, sending the short hairs resting against her forehead puffing into the air briefly before they fell back against her face. "I have an idea of what I might ask," she said absently. "Whether he grants it, we shall have to see. Gend would know, out of anybody; a ruthless former-pirate and a confessed murderer, and yet he worked with his captors with almost a reverential loyalty. I might...speak with the spymaster again."

He slithered up her body until he was resting in the crook of her arm. "Gend? Really? Interested in seeing how Neverwinter treats its reformed prisoners, are you, dear girl? That's an unexpected twist and one I'm certain Nasher and Nevalle will be quite pleased of."

Sand realized he was not quite pleased of this idea but held his tongue. After all he had spent weeks subtly trying to impress upon her the importance of their work at the Keep and defeating the King of Shadows, but he had been careful to leave all mention of allegiances to Neverwinter out of it. Neverwinter was just a city, one of many along the coast, using its own political weight for its own gain. He wanted things to be fair, and quite frankly, after this disastrous mission - well suffice it to say he was feeling thoroughly jaded. But he would see what Nasher would offer them.

He tried a different tactic, sitting up suddenly and pulling her boots off her feet. "I think I owe you something." Sand began slowly, carefully massaging her feet, saying casually, "If you become a spymaster like Gend, we may not be able to run away to Candlekeep and test out their tables..."

Torio moaned appreciatively as Sand's fingers began skillfully massaging her feet. Her stomach tingled warmly from where his lips had traced along her skin; but it cooled rapidly as he pulled away, and she became consciously aware of the air brushing against her exposed scars; she discreetly reached and pulled her tunic back down, covering her stomach. A pointless gesture; but her inherent vanity tugged at her, and she merely stretched out once again, settling against the mattress and shutting her eyes blissfully.

After a moment her mouth twitched in a smile. "So you're set on table-testing, are you?" Her insides gave a little lurch. Talking about gleefully running away together was one thing, but planning for it, intending to actually do it...she opened her eyes, watching him steadily, her foot thrumming pleasantly under the rhythmic ministrations from his fingers. "I don't have my heart set on spying for Neverwinter, bodaes," she said quietly. Her voice became wry. "And I think you're fully aware that my loyalties aren't won as easily as that." She wriggled her toes slightly. "If I even have loyalties to speak of; perhaps it's a trait passed down, like eye color or hair texture? My loyalties are sadly underdeveloped." She watched him, chewing on her lip. "But I'm not sure I could...be successful at any other type of life." She tried to picture herself as some scholar; sifting through books at Candlekeep's library, flicking the pages with deft fingers that still had blood beneath the nails; formerly one of the most powerful women in Luskan and now merely a traveler poking through tomes.

But Sand would be there, too. Gend had a power, of sorts, even though he was a prisoner. He has Lord Nasher's ear; he had his own network of spies. If the stories and rumors told it right, he was also rather poignantly alone.

She sighed. "In the short term I presume I would ask for the removal of the torture enchantment from anything ever being placed on my person again, at least; and possibly the removal of all enchantments, altogether." She waggled her eyebrows at him briefly. "Candlekeep could come a bit sooner, you know."

Sand gave her big toe a playful pinch and then slid his hands up her legs, massaging her calves. "I suppose whatever makes you happy, dear girl. I suppose if a life of intrigue is for you, then I'll have to accept it and cope with it as best as possible. I suppose I'll just get very good at _Polymorph_ spells." She was right and Sand knew in his heart of hearts that you couldn't keep a woman like her caged, safe. She needed exhilaration to feel alive; he needed books. They would have to compromise somewhere, somehow. "Oh very well, my dear Torio. You play spymaster, I'll play happy house-husband/hedgewizard; you'll always have potions, we'll visit Candlekeep a few times a year and you'll slowly kill me with worry."

He suddenly had a tremendous amount of sympathy for her situation, being left behind whilst he gallivanted through the countryside, tangoing with bandits and orcs. Mind you, Sand couldn't imagine bringing her on such missions; they never needed somebody to translate for them since most of the dialogue consisted of "DIE!" and those sentiments were easily understood by gesture alone. He'd likely have to jump in front of her to catch arrows and any day he had to play living shield was a bad day indeed. Besides, he never liked casting with arrows embedded in him anyway.

His hands moved up past her knees and began kneading the flesh there. "If Nasher and Vale do not offer to remove the enchantments, I will be very displeased." He paused, frowning. "I haven't thought about what I want. Well I have but unfortunately they aren't very exciting. Full access to the Academy libraries and the Cloaktower archives; diplomatic papers to Candlekeep. It would be nice if you could move permanently into my chambers; I mean the Keep is filling up with people so quickly, I'm certain they could use the extra space..." Sand realized he was rambling. "And you know, 'Tanith' and 'Nagendra' haven't taken their honeymoon yet - all expense paid trip to a city of our choice?"

Torio felt her eyes half-close as his fingers moved up her leg. "By gods, your hands feel wonderful..." She wriggled contentedly against the bed, her skin alighting as his hands roved up past her knee. "You could promise yourself to monkhood if that's what you wanted, as long as you promised to do this everyday." She glanced at him archly from underneath her lashes. "Well…maybe other things everyday, as well."

She couldn't help but chuckle as Sand began listing off the things he might ask for; Deneir help her, but she could see him bent over a table scattered with books, his eyebrows drawn together slightly, lips moving silently as he read along with the passages. He had quite an ardent passion for raw knowledge that was lacking in anyone she'd ever encountered before; most of the contacts she knew used knowledge and magic as tools, a means to an end, a stepladder to power. Sand practiced magic simply because he wanted to. She was sure he had his aspirations to power; any mage who understood the diplomatic leverage of being able to incinerate your opposition in a heartbeat had aspirations to power. But...he could have had power. Luskan offered him power. He had chosen something else, instead. As well as an odd sort of freedom that involved babysitting twin Knight Captains and mocking Sir Nevalle behind his back...

He was kissing her; she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down against her body, throwing her recently massaged leg around his waist. She knew she'd not be able to settle down into the type of life most women slid into as easy as breathing. She tried to imagine herself heavy with child, running a household, preparing meals and walking the streets fearlessly, with no thought to who might be walking behind her...But her swollen belly still bore the marks of the whip, even as it bore the theoretical child her thoughts conjured up. The image vanished from her mind completely. "I could meet you in the middle, I suppose. Books and intrigue and wine," she said against his mouth, laughing lightly. "And a few _Polymorph_ spells thrown in for good measure, my hedgewizard."

He twisted his body and kissed her mouth. "Whatever you decide, dear girl, I will support you as best I can even if I can't follow you."

His words shot through her with a pang, and she found her arms tightening around him momentarily. "Well, I shall do my best to ensure you can follow eventually, won't I? Leave a trail of books in my wake, to ensure that you'll find me again."

Sand sighed as she pulled him to her. He caught a strange, shimmer of a thought from her - one of her pregnant, rubbing her scarred front and then it was gone, pushed away and vanished. Children. Sand had never considered having children and he found the idea did not abhor him as he thought it would. In his mind, children were still grubby, loud, tending to stick their fingers into his alchemical equipment ... He did have a cat; children couldn't be that much different from a cat. Torio could teach them languages, he could teach them magic... But children meant long-term planning, a domestic existence and a mundane common life. She would never be happy as a simple merchant's lover or even wife, especially one from the Docks.

She would have made a fine politician but Neverwinter and its nobility would never have her now. Her notoriety had spread to all the cities of the Lords' Alliance; Sand knew this - he had seen the news missives written and sent out himself. In fact, he had even proofread some of them. Would she be happy though, if she had to spend the rest of her life polymorphed?

Sand pressed his cheek to hers and joked, "You know me well - leave a trail of books and you know I'll follow. Better make sure they are books I have already read otherwise I will have to stop and read every single one and it will take me years to get to you. But at least books won't get eaten by birds; much better than bread crumbs." His voice took on a serious timbre. "Leave the trail and I will come find you. Preferably in this life though I am not adverse to following you into the next one either."

She turned her face completely, so she could follow his profile with her eyes. "Moving Toril and cheating death?" She saw a serious glint in his eye from where she could see it. Her fingers traced along his temple, pushing a stray strand of dark hair back from his face. She briefly wondered how Sand actually felt about throwing himself in the path of oncoming ancient evil; images of him being wounded, stabbed, his shoulder snapping flashed through her head...her heart gave an agonized lurch. Her hands wandered; down his arm and back again, to his chest, then trailing across his stomach, memorizing the feel of his skin. She had the irresistible urge to say something foolish; _I'll wait for you?_ What was she, some eldritch princess languishing in her tower?

_But you would wait, wouldn't you? Forty more years of decent human life and you'd spend them all looking at the horizon if you had to... _

"I'll leave a trail," she said quietly, smiling, her eyes troubled. "One you won't be able to resist. And if you don't show up, I'll come and find you."

"You'll come find me? Not an idle threat, I'm sure, dear girl. One would have to be an idiot to resist you and the path of destruction you are quite capable of carving."

She had done precisely that - tore through the countryside and Ember, piercing straight into his heart, doing quite a bit damage to his comfortable yet austere lonely life. She had quite competently rent his soul apart, torn down his ideas of what made a good existence and Sand found himself piecing it all back together, one jagged edge at a time.

Only she was helping him, building him back up.

He had put his life and what little influence he had at risk. He had turned down infinite power from Gweynn and the Arcane Brotherhood which had been surprisingly easy because he knew how ephemeral such a thing was; however his more avaricious side was still trying to cope with letting such prestige (even if temporary) slip through his fingers.

But incredibly enough - he was happy. Power was fleeting and the struggle to maintain it was daunting; money and magic were all well and good but these days he was finding both were easy to come by and you needed something to use both on to make it truly worthwhile. Sand kept his face pressed to hers.

To be utterly and irrevocably sentimental, he loved coming home from whatever task he was being dragged on and running off to her room at first opportunity, knowing that she was waiting for him. He loved the first moment when they embraced after a long separation, the sweat and road dust still clinging to him; the desperation and the relief of being with her again, the quick fumbling lovemaking that followed and then the full night conversations which often consisted of both of them sniping and griping about the Keep and its denizens.

He wouldn't trade it for the world, despite how rapidly shrinking his world seemed to be. Sand realized he was clutching her rather hard and had stopped talking, staring off into space. He shook his head lightly, dispersing the overemotional thoughts, and then smiled, "Are you hungry? Tired? I could try to get us some food."

He fell silent for a long while, and she stroked his hair absently; his arms were clenched with tension, holding on to her, and she felt her eyes begin to close. His body was warm where it had been pressing against hers; part of her tunic had rucked up again amidst their slight, shifting movements, and she could feel his skin against hers; tepidly warm and smoother than silk. She always had a penchant for silk...

She fingered a few strands of his hair, sharply wondering what this mission might have been like had Sand decided not to wander into the Library that night so long ago. Was it very long ago? He had hardly been someone who's presence she could stand, much less someone she considered as a potential lover...would all of this eventually have happened anyway, or did that one night in the Library have that elusive spark that threw them together, the kind came and went only once or twice and then was gone forever?

_Listen to yourself, you're starting to think like those maudlin Elven poets..._

She stretched out when he spoke, smirking at him. "You're injured, Bodaes...technically you should be resting right now. I have no spells to memorize or..." here she brushed her fingers against the welted mark on his shoulder, "wounds to heal." She pulled her hand back and yawned. "But seeing as how I'd have to wriggle back in to that...disguise in order to leave, I think you're a better bet, anyway." She sat up and pulled her arms from around his body, giving him room to move. She glanced at her reflection in the small mirror swaying gently on the wall with every rock of the ship; her face looked tired, but her eyes looked wholly unfamiliar; glowing and luminous and entirely not her own. "Abelor said you should be safe, using your own identity; but if you'd like to put 'Roslyn' back on, I can help you."

Sand stood from the bed, shaking his head as he replied, "If it's not necessary then I think I'll refrain from playing a cranky old mage. I'd prefer just being a cranky mage." He rummaged through his pack until he found a clean robe and pulled it over him, letting the stiff, wrinkled fabric fall around him. Not quite Elven weave, but it would have to do. "I'll be back soon." He contemplated her, lying on the bed a moment, her drying hair sticking up in all direction, sooty marks still visible here and there on her pale skin, her clothes wrinkled and ill-fitting.

He had turned the world at his footstep down for this. And he was satisfied with his decision.

Once Sand left, Torio slid off the bed, moving quickly and silently to the various maps and ship logs strewn across the largest table. She hurriedly shuffled some of the maps apart; Abelor seemed to have locked up anything remotely interesting, but she found herself sinking into one of the cushioned chairs, studying the map before her; Athkatla stretched across the lower left hand corner, the coast stretching up past Speartop and Nashkel; her eyes followed Trade Way, remembering the numerous time she had tramped up and down that accursed road. Beregost, Durlag's Tower...Candlekeep...

Her fingers brushed the small painted dot on the parchment; her eyes were heavy, weariness tugging at her. _I'll just close my eyes for a second..._


	21. Chapter 21

**Volume 2, Part XXI: Grug and Grog**

Sand exited the captain's quarters and slowly made his way to the galley. The sailors gave him curious looks as he passed them but Sand merely nodded politely, walking as quickly as the swaying ship would let him. The galley was a cramped space, with barrels of salted meats lining the walls, sausages hanging overhead, and tins of a hard, white pastry. A netted bag in the corner held oranges and other citrus fruits. A wizened old man with a hook for a hand was busy chopping potatoes for a stew and Sand couldn't help but be impressed by the efficacy with which he was spearing the spuds and slicing them.

The old man didn't even look up from his work. "Comin' to beg Old Carmen for scraps like the sharkbait worthy sprog that ye are? Fetch me that thar sack o' taters. The Cap'n may judge a man by his coin but I says show me him pullin' a line b'for I make my call."

It took Sand a moment to translate. _ Ah - he wants me to help him to prove to him I'm of value. I can do that._

He walked over to a bag of potatoes leaning against the far wall and carried it over to the table, wincing slightly at the weight pulling down on his shoulders. The ship hit a wave and Sand nearly toppled over. A sad looking potato rolled out onto the uneven table and Old Carmen jabbed it with his hook, before gesturing towards a keg. "Grog and earn yer sea legs, master wizard."

Sand went over and poured two pints of a golden brown ale. He put one glass in front of the cook and took the other for himself, sitting across from him. He took a sip and gagged. The ale was positively one of the nastiest drinks Sand had ever had the displeasure of drinking. Even Duncan's worst ale was leagues better than this. Old Carmen tossed a potato his way. "Make yerself useful, ye son of a biscuit eater."

Sand wasn't going to even try to understand that insult and began diligently cutting the potato. He had no idea why he was even bothering with this; normally he'd be quick to return the jab and be out the door, but something about the cook stayed with him. Probably the hook, Sand mused. Every time the ship gave a jolt, Sand yanked his fingers back from the knife. He could slice up one potato to Old Carmen's five; even then, his pieces were uneven, crooked, thick and thin.

Carmen moved in a flurry, tossing vegetables onto the swaying, shifting table expertly; when the ship rocked, the various accoutrements slid across the table, and yet the wizened old man never missed a beat, sliding them back the other way with his hook and continuing on as before. After a moment, he reached over and lightly rapped Sand on the hand with the curved back of his hook. "Yer not cuttin' them right, ye land lovin' monkey; 'ere, ye've got to flick yer wrist! Flick it!" The hook-handed pirate demonstrated, slamming the sharpened point of his instrument across a hapless carrot.

He pushed a loose strand of hair back, "Sweet Mystra, I'm trying. Does it really matter if I'm cutting right or not? It'll all end up in the pot anyhow!" When the cook began berating him and yelling "Flick it", Sand had a nostalgic moment of remembering him yelling those very words to Torio in the tiny safehouse. Why hadn't he realized just how annoying it was? He was amazed she hadn't stabbed him in the throat with the wand. He would have to thank her later for it.

The old man watched the elf shrewdly. "Yer that old magic-spewin' landlubber the Cap'n took on, aren't ye?" The ship lurched once more and the hook slid across the table again, keeping the chopped food from dumping onto the deck. Old Carmen took a long, contented draw from his ale glass and smacked his lips appreciatively. "Don't look like a seafarin' type; what are ye doin' on me ship, then?"

Sand wondered if he should bother lying to the old sailor. Maybe he just wouldn't tell the entire truth. "I'm seeking a safe passage home for myself and my companion, to Neverwinter. I had the coin, your Captain had the ship. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement." He watched, fascinated, as the old cook managed to chop vegetables, drink ale, and keep it all from landing on the floor. "How long have you been sailing?"

"Ha! Ye've got a slick way of talkin', boy," Carmen cackled, expertly goring a hunk of meat hanging from the rafter and yanking it down onto the table with an earth-shattering thud! "Fancy wizards and fancy words, begad!" He shook his head despairingly and began ripping strips of meat and sliding them off to the side, repeating his precarious balancing act every time the ship lurched. "Been sailin' fer me whole life," he cackled. "Me mother t'was said te have thrown me on a ship durin' a battle, wit' one o' the vilest ragin' storms screamin o'er 'er head through the lot of it." He grinned at Sand, revealing gold-capped teeth. "They says I leapt from a'twixt 'er legs, grabbed me a cutlass, and threw meself into the fight!"

The man tossed back the rest of his ale, and then subsequently tossed the ale glass towards Sand; apparently it was the elf's job to keep the cook thoroughly quenched. "Been on the sea e'er since, so I 'ave! 'Ere, get that pot blazin, while yer at it, matey." The hook gestured towards where a pot was swinging precariously over a small iron pit, a grease-slathered grate covering the charcoals.

Sand caught the glass and nearly fell over as the ship gave another jarring jerk. He went back to the keg and poured Old Carmen a drink, teetering back to his seat. He put the glass down in front of the cook and then stumbled gracelessly to the cooking fire. At least with his alchemical experience and all the time keeping the fires going when they were on the road, he would be good for something in front of the old man. Sand cast _Burning Hands_ and watched as the fuel lit up brightly and warm. He stoked the fire with a nearby poker. "Don't you ever get tired of the sea, all this rocking and swaying? What about a family? Wife? Children?"

Old Carmen whistled appreciatively as Sand lit the fire. "Ha! Sink me, ye'd be a useful dog durin' a storm, mate! These ol' bones be gettin' stiff in the cold and wet, lately." He began flicking vegetables into the air, sending them sailing expertly over his shoulder and splashing into the swinging pot. He spoke as he chopped and threw, chopped and threw. "An old sea dog like me t'ain't fit fer a wife, ha! Aaah, but t'were a lass once..." Old Carmen sighed wistfully, twisting an end of his ragged, greying mustache for a moment. "Lovely green eyes, she 'ad, and the roundest ale'cups ye ever coulda seen." The old cook waved his hands in the air, drawing a shape in front of him and grinning. "Ah, but it t'weren't meant te be, mate! I love th' sea, 'ornery mistress that she be, and my lovely lass ne'er could abide the competition. Garn, but it t'were a shame; she could sail better'n half the men." The old pirate began caught a stray strip of meat as it flew off the table and flung it disdainfully into the pot. "Ha! ye almost got me there, scallywag."

He turned, and for good measure, poured a stint of his ale into the pot. "Ah well, all's history, ye know." He winked at Sand. "What about yerself, fancy posh wizard castin' spells and the like; ye've got one o' them 'arems, do ye?" His eyes became wistful. "Blimey, we 'ad one o' them red wizards on ship once...the wimmin 'e 'ad with him, cor!"

Sand gave up trying to stand on the swaying ship and just sat himself on the ground, poking at the fire to keep it high. "No harem for me. Just the one wimm- woman. She's quite the handful; I don't think I could handle a harem even if I were offered one with her around." He jabbed hard at a piece of coal, watching it crumble and the orange flames lick greedily at it. "She loves her work; not one to settle down either - like you I suppose. I told her I'd follow her but her work takes her dangerous places; I may not be able to follow her everywhere." Sand pressed his lips into a thin line, staring at the glass of ale. Shrugging, he emptied it, choking on the bitter brew and then continued speaking, "And she has lovely...uh...ale cups too."

"Hahaha!" The old cook slapped his knee. "Sounds like a right prickly lass; Aye, what can ye do wit' em; tie 'em to the bed, I says, and that'll keep 'em in one place." He winked roguishly at Sand; his foot kicked out expertly and flipped a stool onto the deck beneath him before sitting down, leaning forward conspiratorially as he stabbed a slim wooden plank into the pot and began stirring.

"See, the tricks is..." he said, whispering loudly, "Ye gets someplace nice 'n pretty; 'ard te catch yerself a bonny lass when yer on a ship and ne'er in one place, ye know." He winked at him. "Or if she t'ain't, either. Then, ye's slips a ring on 'er finger, spout a few pretty words and she'll be slaverin' over ye like a dog come for supper!" He reached out, clapping Sand heartily on the back, before turning towards the pot. "And speakin' o' supper, go hollar fer the crew; this won't keep all night!"

Sand's lips twitched and he fought back a laugh. "Tie her to the bed? Somehow I suspect she would get other ideas, my sailor friend..." In fact, Sand knew she would and knew exactly what those ideas would entail.

He tried to picture Torio's response if he took her somewhere nice and pretty (which may have to be limited to the Keep and its surrounding lands so his options were severely limited), gave her a ring (another piece of jewelry, ironically enough, binding her to a person, a place or a thing) with words of fluffy Elven love poetry (well that actually was a good idea since she did seem to rather enjoy it, without ever admitting it).

He could hypothesize, even as he stood up and went to the galley door to call the crew down for their meal, that her reaction would not be one of "slaverin' dog". "Angry bitch"? "Irritated cur"? "Cornered hound"? He stopped himself when he realized he was comparing Torio to a mere mutt. The lovely seafaring metaphors would have to end here.

Sand stuck his head up on deck, blinking in the sudden coolness in the air. The sailors were busy scrubbing the deck, adjusting the sails, climbing up and down the riggings like large spiders. He cleared his throat, "Uh...supper?"

The sailor nearest to him looked up and grinned a toothless smile. "Nay, mage, ye best be doin' this way." He stood and cupped his hand around his mouth and shouted, "Grub in the galley! Grub and grog, me hearties!"

Sand jumped back and pressed himself against the wall as a stampede of sweaty, sunbaked sailors rushed past him to the galley doors. He made his way back to the captain's quarters, using the walls as support, and slipped inside quietly. Torio was slumped over the desk, sleeping soundly, a map in her hands. He knelt by her feet and gently took the parchment from her fingers, laying it back on the table. He nudged her with his mind.

_Helkaer. Food's ready. Wake up._

Torio's eyes snapped open; she sat motionless for a moment before her conciousness-ascending mind registered where she was. She sat up, winced as her neck creaked in protest, and pressed a hand to her table-creased cheek. "Mmmm...how long has it been?" She stretched, standing up and arching her hands up towards the ceiling. She eyed him sleepily for a moment, smirking. "Give me a minute, Bodaes; I'll have to get 'ready' for supper, I suppose."

She moved to where the various pieces of her disguise lay, and picked them up; she slipped her tunic up over her shoulders and began wrapping the webbing around her chest, tying it off a little awkwardly. The tunic came back on, followed by her surcoat and boots. She pushed her hair back and held out her arms, open for inspection. "I doubt anyone will look closely enough at me to raise any questions." She swept low in a flourished, affected bow. "Shall we, Master?"

Sand couldn't resist peeking as she got into her disguise, watching her flatten out her obvious curves. "You were asleep for likely the better part of an hour, dear girl. The cook was rather adamant that I help him prepare the meal tonight. Consider it a trial run of my abilities as a house-husband."

He studied her critically, his face cool and detached before he nodded, satisfied. "Ever much the young androgynous boy. Come 'Jacob'. You mustn't keep your Master waiting." He weaved towards the galley again and pushed the door open. The small room was cramped full of sailors, drinking, laughing. There were good natured shouts as they entered and two seats were cleared up for them. Plates of food were shoved in front of them, as were glasses of a dark rum.

A sailor clapped Torio on the back. "Lad! Yer pretty handy with a knife in a fight. Did the old wizard teach you that? The crew aboard the Lusty Luskan always be needing a good man in a pinch if you find life as a privateer to yer liking."

Torio followed Sand into the small, cramped chow hall, keeping her head ducked low. She sat, reached for the glass of rum at her place setting, and nearly knocked it over as a hand slapped her back, nearly realigning her spine in the process. She glanced at the sailor and shrugged, non-committal, her voice back to the mumbling, uncertain tone she had used for Drakken. "Learned it at the docks." Well that much was true, at least.

The men seemed to be yelling at each other even though they were only a few feet apart; they jabbed fingers at each other, swore violently, laughed loudly; one of them was expounding on the virtues of Rashemian gambling dens, inciting a near riot as two of the sailors on the far end of the table objected. One of the men was puffing on a sweetish-smelling rolled cigar at the far end of the table and watching them both closely, his expression sour. He seemed intent on catching her eye, and so she kept her eyes turned away from him. The stew seemed somewhat nondescript and...questionable in its contents. She dug a spoon into the concoction, nudging Sand's mind..._You helped make this, Bodaes?_ She sent a quick prayer to Denier and thrust her spoon into her mouth.

Sand realized that eating with the sailors was much like eating with several Khelgars and Neeshkas, only with more questionable table manners (if that was possible). He watched Torio try a spoonful and when she didn't immediately spit it out or keel over, he tried a bite as well. _I did the potatoes and started the cooking fire. I don't claim responsibility for anything else._

The stew tasted like a salty concoction of watered down ale with vegetable thrown in for good measure. Sand realized belatedly that that was exactly what it was and made no pretense of being otherwise. He chewed and swallowed, the food seeming to clump agonizingly in his throat. He took a drink of the rum to help wash it down; as awful as it was, it was hot food and it wasn't poisoned, two things to be grateful for. Sand nearly snorted derisively when he realized his standards for what constituted a good meal had fallen sharply in recent weeks.

Sand looked down the small table, his ears alert. The sailors were now talking loudly about Drakken, still tied to the mast and still on board. One sailor, with a full beard and a long scar running down his cheek was waving his hands about adamantly, "Nay! The wiser course of action would be to slit his throat and dump the body to the depth. Dead men tell no tales..."

A thin sailor with a hooked nose was frowning as he replied, "That be short-sighted, ye waister. Ye throw him to the fishes, sink or swim to Luskan, and he'll be in yer backpocket for the return. As it stands, Luskan will never let the good Captain back in her waters."

Sand spoke up, "So the Harbor Master is still aboard the ship? How would we return him?"

The thin sailor grinned at Sand, his teeth blackened and gray, "Aye! Ye tie the poor soul to a barrel when the tide be headed in, let him drift to shore. If the chase was on, ye can leave him for his mates to find..."

Sand scooped up another spoonful of the questionable food and said, "So what does Captain Abelor think?"

The bearded sailor shrugged but his eyes shone brightly at Sand. "Ah, master wizard, it appears yer influence aboard the ship be great indeed. He awaits your opinion."

Torio nearly choked on her food as she tried to swallow; a big, meaty hand came out of nowhere and slapped her on the back, and her glass of rum was shoved in front of her face from somewhere else by a much bonier, gnarled hand. "'Ere, lad, don't go breathin' yer chow!"

She managed a swallow with the burning help of a drink from her rum, and said, her voice hoarse, "He waits now?"

The men laughed, the table shaking as multiple hands slapped against the wood, causing bowls and glasses to tremble and skid across its surface. "Lookit 'is face!"

A rather grubby looking sailor reached across the table, ruffling Torio's head in what she assumed was an affectionate manner; her skull felt like it was being ground under a pestle and she winced as she imagined what manner of filth was being deposited into her hair. "A reg'lar advisor te the Cap'n, that's what ye are, lad!"

THUNK!

All eyes darted towards the entrance to the chow hall. Old Carmen's hook lay embedded in the doorframe. "No one leaves until ye finish yer grub, ye swine! Yon wizard slaved o'er it for hours...ye wouldn't want te let the Cap'n's honored guest feel bad, now, would ye?"

A table full of interested eyes swiveled towards Sand.

Sand's eyes widened, "Oh goodness, no no. I was really only here for about an hour and it was no trouble at all, really. I won't feel bad; if you all have some place to be..." He waved his bent fork in front of him in what he hoped was an offhand manner. The last thing he wanted was a shipful of rogue sailors to decide him and Torio weren't worth the trouble and throw him overboard with Drakken.

"Bah! These sea dogs could learn a thing or two of class and decency from you." Old Carmen extracted the hook from the wood. "Show him yer manners and yer kindness." His lips twitched a bit as he leaned against the wall, "He tells a sad tale about a difficult lass; she be breakin' his heart, she is. She has the call of wanderlust. So offer yer sympathies, men."

Torio's spoon clattered noisily into her bowl, even as stools scooted back against the floor and bodies leaned over the table, crowding around Sand. "Tell us, mate!"

"'E don't look 'eartbroken te me!"

"Bah, what do ye know, Chancey, 'e's an elf, they always look the same! And ye only 'ave one eye!"

One of the sailors, a spindly man with a bandana pulled so tightly around his head his hair seemed to be trying to poke through the fabric, scooted next to Sand and slid an arm around Sand's shoulders. "C'mon, tell us the tale! Old Carmen won't budge an inch, 'e likes te tease us, 'e does."

"What's she loike?"

"Is she rich?"

"Is she on o' them rich elfy type princesses?"

"Cor, what in the hells 'ave ye been reading, Forswooth? Elfy type princesses?"

"Well, I heard once from the Cap'n..."

The argument erupted around them, loud and good-natured...beneath it, a constant, rhythmic pounding began on the table, and soon voices were chanting "Tell, tell, tell, tell!"

Torio carefully pushed herself back from the table, slipping under one of the arms and passed the bodies that blocked her escape from the chow hall as they swarmed around the wizard; her face was rather stony as she slipped past Carmen and out the door; the cook gave her a rather shrewd look as she escaped the chow hall and walked out into the deck.

* * *

Sand felt Torio's warm presence beside him leave; he looked up and followed her disappearing back as she slipped quietly, unnoticed by the other sailors, from the room. He could only catch glimpses of her, through the tattooed arms, and weathered, beaten bodies of the men as she left. Torio was quickly replaced by a large, swarthy sweaty sailor, who shoved the rum into his hands.

"Ah...Thanks, friend." He took a sip of the harsh drink, blinking as it burned down to his stomach. "She's not an elfy type princess." Sand mentally added, _You ignorant, one tankard drunk - I really am aboard a ship of fools_. "She's human. Not rich but she has a mind you could cut with." He stared back at the doorway before continuing. "She's quite beautiful." Sand fought back the urge to describe her fully, realizing that it would give away her entire disguise. "Um...lovely ale cups?"

Loud, raucous laughter erupted from the table and multiple hands patted his back.

"So ye drink well at night, do ya master wizard!"

"Don't let the lass git away with her ways! Ye tell her how ye want it done."

Old Carmen squeezed into a seat. "Wimmin like her are rare gems, wizard. Ye be a sprog to let 'er go and go off then there be no accountin' who she'll meet." He half-turned and stared at the doorway as well. "Don't lend an ear to these waisters. Ye follow her for her life time; ye'll have yer freedom far too soon, elf, and ye'll be wishing ye ne'er let 'er outta yer sights."

"Bah! Ye don't know what yer talkin of, Carmen!" One of the sailors laughed uproariously and slid another drink towards Sand. "Come on, elf! Here's te the wimmin that eat our hearts out!" He lifted his grubby glass and the room was filled with raucous shouting and cheers as the sailors tipped their glasses back. One of the men began recounting a tale, describing a Waterdhavian courtesan and her multiple talents to the delight and rampant disbelief of his fellow sailors.

* * *

_Difficult._

Well, Torio couldn't deny that. She thrust her hands in her pockets and walked out across the wooden deck, frowning and glancing up at the near-midnight sky as sea spray flew languidly over the tops of the sails. She saw a flicker of flame across the deck...a flame flickering against a familiar face as it lit a pipe...

Abelor.

She wandered over to him, hunching her shoulders against the breeze. "Hear tell you need advice on what to do with a certain Harbor Master, Captain. Where is Drakken now?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Volume 2, Part XXII: Inconvenient Moral Conjectures**

Abelor puffed gently on his pipe and then he offered it to Torio. "Jacob. Yes. It seems most right since the good Drakken was so keen on thwarting your escape and terminating your life that you should have a say as to his escape and his life aboard the Lusty Luskan. We can wait for your master or you can decide yourself, if he chooses not to join us." He leaned casually on the rails, eyeing the horizons. He lowered his voice to a low growl. "Though I prefer your company without your betrothed." Abelor turned and grinned at her, saying only half-jokingly, "Betrothals don't mean you're joined yet..." He raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Torio arched a brow at Abelor wryly. "Well, I must say I admire your persistence, Captain." She chuckled, then shook her head, glancing back towards the chow hall door. "I think, for me at least, I am fairly and most irretrievably joined already." She watched the smoke rings puff from his pipe before taking it from his proffered hand and drawing on it for a long moment; the smoke tasted sweet and slightly bitter on the back of her tongue as she drew it into her lungs, and she coughed inexpertly as she blew it back out again, feeling light-headed. She handed it back to him, and pulled her collar up against the wind, leaning back against the rail of the ship, musing. "I dislike the thought of leaving him alive, personally; but I suppose we should take into account your ability to worm your way back into Luskan's dubious good graces." _And making it more difficult for you to return to Luskan is going to make our debt to you even deeper._ Her eyes flicked towards the dining hall once again; she used to be able to make snap decisions in a heartbeat, decisions that cost people their lives or decided their future. Now, she was hesitating...

"Unless the decision is pressing, we can wait for him." She shrugged absently, trying to make her voice nonchalant. "He might have a perspective on it we're not considering." _Difficult, ha!_ He had no idea what difficult was. He couldn't even being to imagine...

She thought over the last few days they had spent in Luskan. _Hmmm. Maybe he could..._

Abelor chuckled as he took the pipe back from Torio. "Don't swallow the smoke! Keep it in your mouth." He took another puff and then offered her the pipe for another try. "You cannot blame a lonely seafaring man for trying. The crew is all men - some superstition or other about womenfolk being bad luck aboard a ship." He gave her a big grin. "But supposedly the woman can counter that bad luck by being naked. No word of a lie from this Captain. So best keep that in mind if you wish for a speedy voyage home." He put his head dramatically over his heart and winked at her.

Torio snorted, taking the pipe again. "Forgoing clothes might give away my disguise, Abelor. Although it seems to happen to me often enough that I should beware, regardless." She sucked on the pipe absently, glancing at Abelor wryly and merely holding the smoke in her mouth..._Gods, but who could ever enjoy such a thing constantly is beyond me..._and blowing it out, watching it curl up into the night air and disappear in the breeze.

He inhaled deeply, the sea air biting and fresh. "The wizard is fortunate then, to have such loyalties from you of all people, Torio Claven. He must have paid a high price indeed for your company!" He chuckled. "And to think where you both met. The gods surely have their follies with our hearts."

Abelor drummed his fingers absent-mindedly on the railing. "The further out we go, the harder it will be for Drakken to make his way home." He shrugged before saying, "Coin and power moves Luskan. If Drakken is killed it will take some time to re-establish myself in their harbors but all it will take is one ambitious Luskanite. Luskan has a short memory when it suits her. But we will wait for your elf."

"I suppose he has paid a high price," she said, after a moment. "We both have, in a way...but he's used to much calmer seas than the ones we're currently on." She handed the pipe back to him, just as Sand's voice floated over the deck.

* * *

It was somewhere after the 2nd verse of a rowdy song (_"When we're dead, there be no ale / So drink me hearties until you drop pale..."_) that Sand finally managed to slip away, stumbling slightly either because of the rum (which he seemed to have had enough of) or the swaying ship - or both, traces of the voices following him out the small galley.

_...When we're dead, there be no sex_

_So find a bonny lass and let's do that next..._

He went back to the Captain's Suite to look for Torio but it was dark and empty. Sand climbed the stairs up to the deck and spotted Torio and Abelor, standing side by side, leaning over the railing. He approached them. "Captain. Jacob."

Torio turned around, watching Sand approach unsteadily. His face looked strikingly sculpted in the rising moonlight, and she felt her heart give a little twitch inside her chest. What was it with elves and moonlight? When he was close to them, she murmured, "Just discussing what's to be done with dear Harbor Master Drakken. We'll have to decide soon, I suppose; else we'll be too far out to do anything but dispose of him permanently."

Sand stood next to Torio, slipping his arm around her waist the way a man might his betrothed, but also because he was still swaying dangerously. _But Sand, if you had your way, you'd do that publicly anyway..._

Sand stared up at the stars twinkling overhead, closing his eyes into the breeze of the fast moving ship. The air was lovely after spending so much time in the cramped quarters below deck. "What are the risks and benefits to both, Captain? Dear girl?"

Abelor took the pipe back, striking a match and relighting it. "Killing him is the most straightforward option. We can only assume Luskan believes him dead by now. It is safe but with very few gains for us. Or me, in any case. Returning to Luskan will be very difficult. It puts me and the Shadow Thieves at a disadvantage that will have to be made right by someone." Abelor gave them both a meaningful look before fussing with his pipe again. He took a few puffs of the pipe, the smoldering fire in the bowl lighting up brightly for a few moments. "Or we can offer him quarters - mercy - in exchange for forgetting this whole incidence and letting me dock again at their harbors. Of course, we could let him go and he could return with a full fleet to pursue us. We aren't in Neverwinter's territories yet and begging your pardon and allegiances, but I suspect Nasher will not send a retaliatory fleet to defend us."

Torio shifted her hips, nestling slightly against Sand's body almost out of habit..._I wonder what any of the crew would think, seeing the wizard nuzzling his apprentice in the presence of the captain._ The mental image filled her with amusement, and she glanced over their shoulders at the closed dining hall door, the light peeking out from its numerous cracks and the noise pouring throughout the ship like a muffled storm. _They'll be at it for a while..._

"As far as I'm concerned, killing him is the easiest method to get out of this," she said quietly. "But yes, it'll make it extremely difficult for you to return to Luskan." She glanced over at Sand's profile, etched in moonlight, before turning to look fully at Abelor. "If we turn him loose, how much time would it take for him to float back to Luskan, amass an armada, and sail after us in a fine rage? Do you think we could outrun him?"

Sand watched Abelor consider Torio's question carefully before the sailor responded, "You're assuming they don't already have a fleet coming after us. Luskan does not take defeat lightly, especially on the seas. They do not know who we are, to whom we owe our loyalties and so they must catch us before we disappear from them forever. Our heads would make a lovely addition to their walls."

He twirled the pipe between his fingers before taking another puff. "I give him half a day before he is picked up by a ship. The waters along the coast are busy. We still have a full day, day and a half with a good wind before we reach Neverwinter."

Sand looked at him in alarm. "So they could be coming right at this moment? Can we go faster?"

Abelor chuckled, taking the pipe and offering it to him. "You worry about things you cannot affect, wizard. Our speed depends on the winds but I'll have you know that with the wind in our sails, the Lusty Luskan be the faster ship any day. If the wind is against us or in no wind - well, that will be trouble to start."

Sand took the pipe and inhaled, holding the smoke between cheeks before exhaling and returning the tobacco to the Captain. He looked down at the cold dark waters below them, the white frothy foam from the ship cutting through the waves, standing out like clouds on a dark night. The water was almost darker than the skies and Sand shuddered at the thought of being abandoned in the waves. The whole night had a strange calm feeling; it was slightly chilling and Sand pressed himself against Torio's body, seeking her warmth and comfort. "We have to decide soon."

He looked at his pale hands, folded neatly over the railing and thought back to washing the blood from Torio's hands. "I think I have had enough of bloodshed for one evening. Red just isn't my color, I hope you understand."

Torio glanced at Sand, and sighed almost imperceptibly. Crippled with inconvenient moral conjectures, they had called him.

_He's too good for you._

"All right," She said. "Then I suppose we should get him tied up and down into the water as soon as possible."

Abelor grinned at them. "Easily enough done. Wait here." He walked across the deck, a trail of smoke following in his wake as he reached out and slammed his fist against the chow hall door. "Oy, ye louts! All hands on deck! Chancey and Kilbur, get His Lordship the Harbor Master up from below decks!"

Torio touched Sand's hand briefly before discreetly sidling away from him; bodies poured from the chow hall, shouting voices floating through the previously still night air. Two of the sailors disappeared as the others spread out, placing a wide, flat plank against the rail and making a slapdash ramp. A huge, burly sailor approached both Sand and Torio, and slid an arm around each of their shoulders. "Names Robbie, mates. Come on, yer both responsible fer this scallywag bein' on the boat...ye should both get front row seats!" He muscled them up in front of the growing crowd, just as the hatch leading below decks was kicked open, and an incredibly filthy, tied, and gagged Harbor Master Drakken was pulled up onto the deck.

Abelor watched, smiling faintly, as a barrel was rolled forward into the clear space made by the semi-circled bodies of the hooting, jeering sailors. Drakken's eyes were furious; and as one of his "escorts" yanked the gag from his mouth, he nearly snarled, "You'll pay for this, all of you. Luskan will carve it out of your hides!"

Abelor held his hand steady on his blade. "Master Drakken, you're not in a position to make threats, are you? But I am feeling a touch generous this evening - in exchange for your life, what says you to a mutually beneficial agreement?"

Drakken suddenly calmed completely, "You have my attention, sailor." His eyes held an intelligent glint as he surveyed the scene around him. Sand felt the Harbor Master's gaze settle on him a moment before moving on.

Abelor continued puffing absent-mindedly on his pipe. "In exchange for your life, you let us continue to dock in Luskan, no problems. We'll change the ship's colors to make it easier. A simple request, very little effort on your part, is it not?"

Drakken was nodding vigorously, "Of course, of course. That all can be easily arranged. Consider it done."

Sand flicked an eye to Torio. She was watching the proceedings with a schooled calm, but before he could send her a mental message, the sailors were retying the Harbor Master with a frightening efficiency and ease to a barrel. Sand had to wonder how often they did this. His hands were bound tightly to the wooden cask but his legs were untied.

Abelor nodded to Drakken, "Then it is done. You can jump, good sir. Or we can throw you. Your choice."

Drakken slowly made his way up the plank, his back straight, his eyes proud. "Captain, I would reconsider the wisdom of consorting with criminals such as them." He jerked his head in Sand's direction even as the group of sailors roared in laughter.

"...oy! the kettle be callin' the pot black..."

"...fancy words fer a Luskanite, eh!"

The men began singing and Sand realized they probably had a song for every event aboard the ship. He wondered briefly if there was a song for emptying the chamber pots in the morning and then decided he really didn't want to know.

_Billy caught the Cap'n girl_

_Thought he'd give her bed a whirl_

_But when the Cap found this out_

_Over rail went the lout_

_Heave ho, jolly good man_

_You can fall or you can stand_

_Hold your lover nice and tight_

_The sea be cold on this night_

_Billy sank and then he swam_

_Poor boy went on the lam_

_Back to Mama did he run_

_All for a little nightly fun!_

Drakken gave them all a cool look, turned and faced the dark waters before stepping off the ramp. A moment later, a loud splash was heard.

A cheer went up as the splashed echoed across the deck. Bodies swarmed towards the rail, hooting and whistling as the small, bobbing shape of Drakken began receding towards the horizon.

"'Ere, lad, git yerself a good look!" Torio nearly yelped as a pair of hands gripped her under her arms, and then she was hoisted up onto a wide, broad shoulder; she shot a mildly horrified look back down at Sand before her benefactor pushed towards the rail, holding her up above the heads of the much taller sailors so she could see.

Drakken was spluttering and kicking rather determinedly, his uniform making a bright splash of white and gray in the white-washed moonlight against the utter blackness of the sea. She watched silently, feeling hands pat and tug on her ankles in the small throng below her.

"'ow do ye like that, Jacob me lad? Ha!! 'Is fancy uniform won't e'er survive that!"

"Watch yer step, Harbor Master! 'Tis a good twenty leagues down if ye slip off yon barrel!"

"Ye think the sharks'll get 'im before the ships do?"

"I'll take that bet! I've seen the beasties in this stretch o' sea before!"

"Oy, let me in on that!"

As Drakken's shape began to disappear on the horizon, the sailors began dispersing, laughing uproariously. Torio was deposited unceremoniously back on her feet, stumbling slightly as Robbie slapped her back. "Good lad! Enjoy the quiet while ye can, you and yer Master." He grinned at them, gold teeth glinting. "Once the fleet catches up wit' us ye'll be busy enough." There was an ominous undertone to the man's voice, but he whistled cheerfully enough as he strode to the helm and lashed the tiller in place for the night.

A few of the crew scattered across the ship, taking posts as night watch, while the rest milled around and tumbled towards their bunks, or back towards the galley. Torio made her way to Sand's side, her face drawn. A thick heavy calm had settled across the sea, and she kept glancing towards the horizon, imagining she could already see sails.


	23. Chapter 23

**Volume 2, Part XXIII: Nothing Ever Uncomplicated**

Sand watched the flurry of activity on the deck. Cries were going up from all direction and all the men, as they tugged on different sets of ropes, unfurling some sails, adjusting others.

Abelor put out his pipe and hooked his thumbs into his belt. "Aye, the Lusty Luskan is quicker than a two-copper whore. We'll outsail 'em. Best be getting below deck, you two. Real sailing work happens now. Master wizard, ready your spells."

_This is not exactly how you imagined your life when you first agreed to spy for Nevewinter, Ambassador._ Dressed as a common boy, tired, dirty, and running for your life. _What I wouldn't give for a bath_, she thought towards Sand. _If we're all going to die, I wish I could do so clean._ Her mouth twisted wryly as she looked over at Abelor. "Time to put your sails to the test I suppose, Captain."

Sand nodded his thanks to Abelor and glanced at Torio. _Not a fan of the unkempt look, dear girl? You're not going to die so you'll just have to stay unwashed a little while longer._

He ducked below deck and slowly made his way to the Captain's room, holding the door open for Torio.

Torio followed Sand with a mounting trepidation; she slipped into the cabin, her heart fluttering nervously. She felt...

Like she had when they had first approached Luskan's gates. Only a few days ago, and yet it felt like an entire lifetime has spanned between then and now.

She moved to the bed and flopped onto it, her eyes glittering as she looked at him. "Getting in to Luskan was hardly worth noting compared to getting out of it." She brushed a few strands of hair off her face, her eyes narrowing slightly. "So a difficult lass is breaking your heart with her wanderlust, is she?

Sand closed the door and then locked it, walking over to the bed and sitting besides Torio. "Ah - not exactly how I phrased it but I suppose he got the gist of it right. I wouldn't say...'breaking my heart' so much as making future plans extremely difficult. I'm a mage and an alchemist, we thrive on foresight and planning." His tone was joking. "I'm sorry, my dear Torio, my tongue was looser than I thought, I suppose. He charmed me with his hook. Forgive me and my indiscretion."

Torio snorted, scooting over so that he would have room to stretch out. "Yes, those hooks can be scintillating." She kept her face stony for a moment, and then shook her head, a slight smile twitching across her mouth. "You did have everything rather turned upside down on you, didn't you?" The words 'my love' almost automatically attached themselves to the end of her sentence, and she closed her mouth carefully on the words before they slipped out. She watched him for a moment. "I suppose it's not fair for me to demand you traipse along in my wake," she said tartly. Her voice softened. "I suppose we should focus on surviving, for now. But I...do not want you to be unhappy."

"Hmm. In these matters, things aren't always rational or fair. If they were, neither you nor I would be here, I suspect. You can ask it of me, nevertheless and we'll see how I respond at the time, my dear." He stroked her fingers lightly, then admitted, "I'll probably go with you. And I'd be happy to do so. Jaral, on the other hand, might object."

The mage pulled out his spell book and lay down besides her, the situation strikingly reminiscent of the day they spent together at the Seven Sails Inn. Once again they were heading into an uncertain future. He hoped he had made the right decision in letting Drakken go. "What would you have preferred to have done to Drakken, dear girl?"

She glanced at him wryly. "A dead man, I've found, is hardly as big of a threat as a live one." She leaned back against the pillows, so that her head rested next to his spell book. "But...death doesn't necessarily stop some men either. Garius comes to mind." She shrugged, her shoulders sliding against the mattress briefly. "I think in the circumstances neither choice would have stopped a pursuit. And the route we took was relatively bloodless." Her eyebrows flicked in cold amusement. "Making an honest woman of me yet, are we? There were days when he wouldn't have lived three minutes on this ship."

Sand looked up from his spell book and straight into her eyes. "Making you an honest women? Goodness no, Torio, just a slightly less lethal one. Does or did Drakken deserve to die? Oh yes. I am certain his past is less than holy but he was just doing his job - and competently too I might add since we were being smuggled out - and that resulted in him being a prisoner." He flipped through the book a bit more before adding, "We're lawyers and you were an ambassador. I believe creative truth telling is part and parcel to the job description, is it not?"

Torio shifted slightly, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. She knew that most homeborn Luskanites...or anyone that eventually resided in Luskan, for that matter...were eventual products of the cruel city and the demands it made on the people within its walls. She had risen from urchin to courtesan to one of the most powerful women on the Sword Coast, by fearlessly stepping over (or on) anything that got in her way. It was just the way things were; you did such, or you didn't survive. But thinking that a man she had carelessly talked of killing was merely a product of circumstance...

_...like her..._

She slid her fingers along his arm, pushing the sleeves of his robe aside and tracing his skin, trying to push such thoughts aside. "Mmmm...I suppose you have a point. Although keep in mind his imprisonment was much kinder than anything we would have found in reciprocation in Luskan." She chuckled...her fingers pushed his sleeve up to his shoulder, her fingers brushing rhythmically along his skin. "And I have to say, my imprisonment in Neverwinter was much kinder in a few ways than a free life in Luskan's wall." She lifted her head slightly and began kissing his arm, her eyes partially closed.

Sand gave a short laugh, "I would have been surprised if they even brought us to a prison and didn't kill us outright. We had already escaped from one, dear girl. We are dangerous criminals on the run." Her lips were soft, seductive on his arm; Sand tried flipping through a few more pages of his spell book (Hmm, a water breathing spell, a flying spell...) and then gave up. She was demanding his immediate attention.

"Dear girl! I am never going to get any work done because of you." Sand closed the spell book and tossed it on the floor. He pulled her to him, his shoulder protesting somewhat at the movement. "Yes, Neverwinter can be rather generous with their prisoners, Helkaer. I have known guardians of prisoners to slip them wine, sex, and protection on a regular basis despite their liege's command."

He smiled at her, feeling relaxed and safe for the first time in many hours. He ran his fingers through her hair, working out the tangles that had knotted parts of her short chestnut hair into clumps. "I find it ironic we are surrounded by water and yet have no water for a bath."

Torio winced slightly as Sand's agile fingers began combing through her hair, but she merely nuzzled closer, her eyes inches from his. "You've had three centuries to get some work done, Sand," she said slyly, her mouth twitching in a smile. "Take a few moments off while you can." She deftly pulled open the front of his robes, flicking the laces apart, and slid her hands along his chest before wrapping them around his torso, kissing him lightly. Her sudden horizontal state combined with being on a bed was causing her entire body to relax with an overwhelming, contented weariness.

She shut her eyes lazily, nuzzling his neck. "It explains the general, unwashed state of most of the crew," she said, yawning. "Not inspired to take up sailing, Bodaes?" She chuckled. "The crew seems to have taken quite well to you. Just think; all the free sailing you could want, no political intrigues, silver shards, or half-crazed gnomes, and all the horrible bilge-watered ale you could drink."

His skin goosebumped where she touched him and he paused, a moment.

_...all the free sailing you could want, no political intrigues, silver shards, or half-crazed gnomes, and all the horrible bilge-watered ale you could drink..._

Did she know how tempting an offer she was really presenting to him, despite her jest? He tried to imagine them living a simple life at sea working for the Shadow Thieves, sailing from port to port. Could the King of Shadows reach them out on the waters? They would quite effectively disappear; Abelor was planning on changing the identity of the ship anyway. Nasher had his precious map so they had accomplished their goals and Sand was certain he'd be able to find a way to remove the binding power of the oaths they had sworn to Neverwinter. It would just be him and Torio (and Abelor, and Old Carmen, and Robbie and Chancy and Kilbur...)

All right, not quite as romantic but...

In fact, they could probably have Abelor drop them off someplace other than Neverwinter and they could hide in the woodwork...or land work...or whatever it was, until all had assumed them dead. "What if I said yes, dear girl? What if I agreed to sails the seas with the crew until a time when it was safer to return to Neverwinter? What if they left us some place else - Waterdeep, Amn, Athkatla and we tried our fortunes out that way? What would you say?"

Torio's eyes opened again. She tilted her head back to look at his face more clearly; was he jesting?

_Could someone like her really disappear?_ They would have to go far, and there were few places that hadn't at least heard her name. "Evereska's out, you know," she said quietly. "They know my face there, and they remember Garius...I'm afraid we'd be hard pressed to find someplace where we could both ease into a cloak of anonymity." She narrowed her eyes at him shrewdly. "If you were serious about this, _Bodaes,_ you know I would say yes. The thought of returning to servitude, however congenial and fairhanded it is, does not appeal to me, and..." She swallowed hard, "...you wouldn't...have to face the King of Shadows, or Garius."

She brushed her fingers along his skin, watching him closely, her heart thudding rapidly. She could actually visualize it; skirting Neverwinter's contacts, submersing themselves into some far off city..._playing husband and wife for real?_ She knew she could survive practically anywhere, if she could survive in Luskan...and Sand was powerful enough for ten hedgewizards combined...

"Your determination to root out the deadly threat sweeping across the Sword Coast suddenly lacking, my dear?" Her hand traced up and down his back, feeling the slight ridge in his skin where his spine was.

Sand blinked slowly, mulling over his thoughts and feelings. "Dear girl, you know my service to the Knight Captains was never completely by free choice. Can you really blame me for having ideas otherwise? Yes, the Guardian must be stopped but...really, Torio, they can probably find another mage to step in should I go missing. Nasher was rather clear that I was expendable..." He couldn't help but feel bitter. For all the work he had done for Neverwinter, to be suddenly cut adrift like that, tossed to mercy or rather, lack of mercy, of Luskan.

"Ah...yes, I understand you were drawn into this whole affair for the trial." That old pang of guilt shot through her, and yet..."The price you pay for having a wit that even _remotely_ matches my own, I suspect." Her voice was light, but her arms tightened around him momentarily. He wouldn't be in this mess had they not instigated the trial for Ember...

...but then, she wouldn't have him if he wasn't in this mess, now would she?

Sand did feel guilty for even thinking about abandoning his friends and for making all the efforts of Silverfox, Lightfoot and Ringside Molly to get them safely home for naught but as his eyes gazed steadily into Torio, he realized most of his allegiances now lay with the woman lying besides him. The further he got her away from Neverwinter, the less danger she would be in. He found himself stroking her back idly, almost imagining he could feel the upraised scars of her skin.

"There just remains the issue of where to go and the fact that both of us are rather broke at the moment. And the fact that we may have to run for the rest of our lives from Luskan, Neverwinter and possibly the King of Shadows."

"By the gods, is nothing ever uncomplicated?" She snorted lightly. "I confess, it would be a more...dangerous life than you're probably used to." An eyebrow arched over one of her clear grey eyes sardonically as she glanced at his face. "Barring recent events, of course." She nuzzled his neck, inhaling deeply; her senses were swarmed with the faded metallic scent of old blood, boiled vegetables, (_boiled vegetables?_) the sweet, bitter smoke from Abelor's pipe and underneath it, the slightly buzzing, living smell of magic that clung to him always.

Sand laughed and gave her a half-smile before answering, "More dangerous than I'm probably used to? My dear Torio, I have been up to my ears in githyanki and demons for months. And I'm not talking those charming ones the warlock summons for tea and scones either." Sand paused then added, "I'm not joking about the scones."

"Would you be willing to do that, Sand?" Her voice sounded more serious than she meant it to. _Concerned for the moral state of the elf wizard's conscience, are you, Torio?_ "Run forever? Dodge retribution? However..._impromptu_ those vows were that we took, they were binding. We'd have to find a way to nullify them...or outrun magical vows..."

He pulled her even closer until their bodies were pressed together, chest down to toes. "There is a way around the vows. I know a spell called _Wish_...I learned it very recently. I don't know if I could abandon my friends during their darkest hours and all - goodness knows they need my help - but..." Sand's blue eyes lit up brightly. His heart was hammering in his chest and he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of this earlier. "I could send you away, to another plane even where you would be safe. It would be a new start for you in the best of ways. I could join you afterwards..."

He sat up on the bed. "I could cast it now."

Torio frowned as he began speaking again, the amusing image of Ammon sitting at a table, hunched over a teacup with a hezrou squatting across from him vanishing entirely. _Another plane?_ What would she do, wander interstellar paths aimlessly while Sand would be fighting or...dying on Faerun? She would have no way of knowing, no way of receiving word. True she might be safe, as safe as any prime would be on their own in a strange world. But she'd be alone...

"You sure as the hells will _not_ cast it now," she said in her clipped voice. "What would I do, Sand? I'm no warrior, no, and I can't...shoot flames from my fingers like your little sorceress or control the elements like your druidess but I am _not_ some helpless foundling. It took two of us to get out of Luskan and I'll be damned if I'll just...just _wander_ without any way of knowing whether you're alive or..." Her voice caught and she inhaled deeply, calming herself; her temper had a way of crackling hotter than a smith's fire once she allowed herself to get going, and she paused for a long moment before meeting Sand's eyes.

"No," she said smoothly. "It's cost me too much to...to have found you." She turned her head, her eyes flicking downward and toying with the bedclothes absently. "If I go anywhere, wizard, it will be with you. And if you stay, then I'll suppose I'll have to stay as well."

She let out a breath shakily, trying to make her voice lighter. "Besides, someone has to look out for you; otherwise that overloaded conscience of yours would cause you all sorts of trouble."

Sand lifted his hands and tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. "Emotionally blackmailing me into going with you, Ambassador?"

"Whatever it takes, Counselor." Her eyes were steely gray, determined.

He sighed then dropped his hands. He understood where she was coming from; he really did and yet the idea that she was staying and risking her life because of _him_... "I think I would sleep easier at night, Torio, if I knew you were safe from all this. I know you aren't helpless - you have demonstrated that time and time again - but when the battle comes to our doorstep, languages and poisons won't work against shadows and heavens know what else they've come up with by now." He considered, for the briefest of a moment, casting the spell and sending her away anyway. Yes, she'd be blazing mad and cursing from here until Sigil but she would adapt. She might even become happy with time.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes a moment. "The minute you want to leave, the minute the danger becomes too great - I'll send you away, my dear. No questions asked, nothing wanted in return. Promise me that you'll at least consider it."

His forehead felt cool against hers; she tilted her face slightly, brushing the tip of her nose against his, and sighed. "Neverwinter and its promises." Her fingers snaked forward, touching his lightly. "I'll...consider it, _Bodaes_." She almost wished he hadn't mentioned it; a craven part of her really _was _considering taking him up on it, especially with the thought of Garius bearing down on the coast.

That was a reckoning she was not looking forward to.

The elf smiled wryly, his eyes still closed, his skin still against hers. "I'm already in trouble for my 'overloaded conscience' - I've started sleeping with the enemy, I've let Drakken go...what's next? Sending the Guardian for therapy?" He snorted and then his expression softened. "Well if you won't let me use _Wish_ to save you, maybe...I could use it for something else instead?"

Torio pulled her face back from his a fraction of an inch, eyeing him curiously. "Use it for what?" Her mouth twitched in amusement. "Summon a hot bath, maybe?"

Sand laughed. "Well if that is what you wish for most, I suppose I could. But - " He caught her eyes and then reached down and slowly lifted her tunic, revealing her marked skin. He lowered his mouth to her stomach, kissing it lightly. "But I think I can remove these, if you would prefer that."

Torio held her breath as he lifted her tunic, feeling the cool air brush across her skin. She eyed him warily. "You _think_ you can remove these... Are you sure?" She propped herself up onto her elbows, looking down at the parallel slash-scars across her stomach. "Is it worth it to waste such a spell on pure vanity, _Bodaes?_" She touched her own stomach briefly.

_It'd be worth it to erase that memory from her head completely..._

She caught his eyes with her own. "Well." She crossed her fingers below her breasts and looked at him expectantly. "Work your 'magic,' wizard, if you think it might work."

Sand gently pulled her to a sitting position, slipping his hands under her tunic, placing one hand on her stomach, the other on her back. His sensitive fingertips could feel the lumpy trails on her skin and he traced them a moment by feel alone. It wasn't pure vanity and they both knew it. He was very certain the spell would work; it could send travelers to other planes, it could bring back the dead - and gods be damned, he would make it restore her.

He contemplated her face a moment: she was staring up at him with a sort of cautious trust and expectancy, her breathing slow and steady against his hands. He knew this spell would drain him utterly so he hoped for what he was about to go through, that he would be successful. But most of all, he didn't want to dishearten her, let her down after all the disappointments of her life. He wanted, for once, for something to go her way.

Sand leaned forward, and kissed her softly, her lips yielding gently beneath his. His mouth still brushing against hers, he began the incantation. His brows furrowed in deep concentration, he brought up memories of her smooth, perfect skin. It was like the mental sexual games they had played during their entire trip but now he infused the memories with his power and care and love.

All those times they had made love, all those couplings in all those places - he remembered the way her skin had slid against his, how his fingers and lips had taken it all in. He thought of the first night in the Library, looking up from between her legs, how her flat smooth stomach looked below her ample breasts and her absolutely fierce expression as he toyed with her, threatening to stop his mouth. He remembered the time he had taken her from behind, how her flawless back had arched for him, how he could see the ripples of muscle, her shoulder blades under the rosy skin. He recalled how he pressed his face into the nape of her neck inhaling the intoxicating scent of her - books, candles, woman. Her skin was always so warm, compared to his - heated like lava was flowing in her veins. Only appropriate for such a fiery, passionate woman.

The magic was sizzling around him, crackling from his head and searing through his entire body. He felt so light, like he was lifting from the small bed, taking Torio with him into the air. The electricity rippled down his arms and into hands where it concentrated in his fingertips. He felt his hands tightened around Torio's midsection as the white and blue arcs of energy leapt from his fingers to her skin. He was being pulled, it seemed, from the inside out through his hands into her and she was draining him, taking him into her...

Torio's breath sucked in long and deep as the first crackles of magic licked across her skin; his fingers grew hot, hotter than any humans, hotter than pure fire, and yet it was pleasant, thrilling; images shot through her mind, Sand's memories...their memories. A soft sigh escaped her mouth, her brow furrowing slightly in remembered passion and more than a little awe as she felt the power build between his hands and her skin. His mouth pressed against hers, firm and pliant, reassuring and desperate, and then...

Her skin..._shifted_...

Keldrin's cruel face stared down at her. The whip cracked in her mind, but it was moving backwards, slowly; blood splattered and then disappeared, pain came, fleeting, and then was just as quickly snuffed out; Sand was on the ground in front of her, his elegant face tight with pain and shoved into the flagstones. Falathiel was breaking him, and the whip cracked again, but it seemed to flick away from her body at the last moment. They were laughing; she was crying...

And then the images, the pain, the blood flowing from her back and stomach, were suddenly and irrevocably dissipated; her eyes snapped open, and her skin felt immeasurably warm, tingling almost uncomfortably.

Sand sighed, breathed out "A'maelamin..." and then his eyes rolled back into his head as he collapsed on the bed.

Torio sat very still for a long moment, her heart beating in short, rapid beats as the energy released against her skin fizzled and faded, her breathing ragged and uneven. She walked her hands forward, moving her face close to the elf's. "Sand? _Sand._" For one, panicked moment, she believed she really did manage to kill him; her fingers pressed against the side of his neck...a steady, slow pulse pushed against her searching fingertips, and she exhaled, long and low. _Out cold._

She tentatively, almost fearfully, ran a hand across her stomach, the palm of her other hand sliding around her lower back. The skin was smooth, soft and supple. The scars were gone.

For the third time in merely a short span of days, and one of the few in her thirty years of life, Torio eyes stung with hot, bitter tears. She covered her face with her hands for a moment, inhaling raggedly.

When she bent over Sand's relaxed, pale face a few moments later, her eyes were bright, but dry. She brushed a few strands of hair from his face, pressing her lips against his briefly. "I love you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

_And not a whip in sight._

She slipped off the bed, pulling her tunic back down over her waist. The energy from the spell still rippled through her, quiet, fading; but hells take it if she'd be able to sleep now. She cautiously slipped out the cabin door, shutting it behind her, and strode out onto the deck.


	24. Chapter 24

**Volume 2, Part XXIV: Fables**

It was almost deathly silent compared to the ruckus earlier; it couldn't be much past midnight, but she could still see the dark shapes wandering the rigging and leaning against the rail, as the night crew posted watch around the ship.

"'Ey, lad!" A voice called down from the crows nest. "Git up 'ere, ye've got te see this!"

Torio craned her neck back, frowning slightly as she eyed the shadowy shape hundreds of feet above her. _Get up there?_ "I don't climb!" she shouted back.

A second shadow materialized beside Torio, a thin but muscular sailor with a large golden hoop around his ear. He jabbed Torio sharply in the shoulders. "Jacob, me boy, a lad who don't climb? What are ye, a mama's boy? Hop aboard the good ship Davey and I'll be takin' ye up." The sailor crouched down for Torio to climb on his back. "Hang on well, lad. It be a long drop otherwise."

Torio swallowed hard. She bent, and hooked her arms around "the good ship Davey's" neck, and before she knew it the man seemed to simply grab the rigging and practically fly upwards. Her arms tightened around his neck, and she heard a reciprocating retort..."Not so 'ard, lad! Ye want us both te drop?" The man's arms and legs moved with such liquid speed that it seemed he barely touched the rope rungs before moving upwards to the next.

A pair of hands gripped the back of her collar and she was hoisted up over the edge of the crow's nest, her feet dropping onto the small wooden platform with a thunk! A short, squat sailor grinned at her, revealing gapped teeth. His eyes were inordinately clear, lacking the yellow-brown stains that hinted at overt rum consumption, and he narrowed them at her now, as they spoke. "If yer goin' te be on this ship, apprentice, ye might as well make yerself useful." Davey was propped up at the edge of the crow's nest, his elbows hooked over the edge, watching them in amusement. Entertainment seems to be a little lacking on the night watch.

"Look," said the man, turning her and pointing towards the north seas. She narrowed her eyes, and then gasped...Icepeak Mountain was visible on the horizon, a faint, white mark, and behind it she could see how the waters clustered around smaller, white dots...the Sea of Moving Ice. In the sky were faint flashes, brilliant greens and faded pinks that danced behind Icepeak Mountain and faded into nothingness. She watched, openmouthed, as the display rippled on the horizon, faint and far away, but unutterably beautiful.

She was surprised to realize that she had never seen it before...and that even her sharp, educated mind had no fathoming of what it could be. "What is it?" she asked.

The short squat sailor squinted into the distance. "They be sayin' there be an ancient prismatic dragon who, once while the lass was in human form, fell in love with a young sailing lad. He returned her favors and they spent many a-happy years together - him sailing the high seas of the North, her caring for their babes with him aboard the ship. But then as mortal boys are wont to do, he grew old and passed from this world."

The sailor turned and faced Torio, "Well, the lass, her heart be totally broken by the lad's death so she lay down and died right there. I supposin' the gods be merciful on their love, so they took her essence and painted the skies over the northerly seas, tellin' her that if she used her lights to guide wayward ships home, she could join him forever in the next life." He lowered his voice. "They say if ye go past the Icepeaks, ye can see a ghostly ship sailing with a lad and his lass. They also say if ye can catch up to their ship, the lass'll allow ye and yer lover to be joined fore'er in the next life, never tastin' the separation of death. As stories are told, the lights be part of a portal to the heavens."

The sailor looked back over the horizon, his expression wistful. "Always wanted to sail up there, I did. But me lass left me first." He paused and then shook his head, embarrassed. "Bah! Stories by bards - who knows if they be true, eh?"

Torio listened, slightly spellbound; the story smacked of crass romanticism and was more likely than not complete fable. But the man's voice was rich and deep, and he painted a picture in her head of a pale, shimmering woman and her sailor, drifting endlessly through the cold, icy waters of the north...

Davey's voice cut through the short silence. "Bah, Nobbs, ye t'ain't got it right." The taller man leaned into the Crow's nest, pointing his finger so that it nearly touched the tip of her nose. "I hear tell it's a bridge, what which lost souls travel back and forth 'tween this world and the next; and if ye've lost someone dear te ye, ye can travel there and meet them on the ice as their soul travels through. But!" The finger wagged in her face. "If ye get there too late, and the lights disappear before ye reach the meetin' point, ye'll be trapped there forever, frozen and left to drift on the sea. That's where those ice blocks come from; they're the poor souls what missed their meetin', and they float aimlessly, hopin' to catch another glimpse o' their loved ones when the lights come down again."

Torio slid her hands into her pockets, her fingers suddenly cold. She tried to imagine floating forever in frigid water, her soul trapped in ice...she shivered and Davey laughed. "What, I think I've scared the poor lad, Nobbs."

Nobbs scowled a bit at the man and then replied, "Mind yer mouth, Davey. Wouldn't want to be giving the young'un nightmares. In any case, lad, tales tell that those lights be involved with the dead and the souls of those ye love, somehow. Few brave the travels there; even fewer return - whether they be trapped in their icy deaths, or find life beyond or just get pulled down to the deep, we simple folk will ne'er know."

He laughed sonorously and then continued scanning the waters, and then pointed down. "There, lad, see? Glowing fish." Swimming, gliding along the ship silently, they could see schools of luminescent green fish; the occasional creature would leap from the waters, its scales flashing in the moonlight before splashing back down. "These seas be full of creatures. I swears on me grandpappy's grave I even saw a dragon turtle once. And be wary o' the merfolk; many a good deck hand have gone o'er board for one of them pretty lasses."

He turned to Torio. "So Davey and me have shared our stories, lad. Ye got any to keep an old salt entertained?"

Torio felt both pairs of eyes on her, and swallowed. _Think.._ She knew her share of myths and legends, and cleared her throat, one particular story sticking out in her mind...

"There's a legend in Kara-Tur..." she paused for a moment; Nobbs was still watching her expectantly but Davey looked mildly confused. "In the east," she clarified. "On the other side of the world. There was once a demi-god who ruled over the skies, named Susanuo. They said he could take on the form of a great serpent, and call lightning and thunder at his whim, but that he was cast out of the heavens because of his quick temper and intractability." She realized suddenly that she wasn't really speaking the way a young mage's apprentice would talk, but the two sailors didn't seem to notice; they were watching her closely, hardly even blinking.

"Susanuo wandered the earth as a mortal, trying to earn his way back into the heavens. He came upon an eight-headed dragon that was terrorizing the countryside; the beast was demanding sacrifices from every village he came in contact with, and Susanuo seized the opportunity." Torio lowered her voice dramatically. "With the help of the villagers, Susanuo prepared eight large bottles of rice wine and crept up one night in the form of the serpent while the dragon was preparing to devour one of his sacrifices, a village maiden of incredible beauty. Susanuo's quick tongue persuaded the dragon to drink heavily from the wine as a prelude to his meal, and the creature was lulled into a deep slumber...Susanuo changed into his human form, and as the dragon slept, he struck!" Torio leapt forward, swinging an imaginary sword towards Davey's neck; the man made a gulping noise. Nobbs was grinning at her. "One, two, three...he cut off every single head, and destroyed the creature so swiftly and without risking a single human life, that the gods had mercy on him and welcomed him back into the heavens."

"And the lass?" Davey's eyes were wide.

Torio smirked at him. "How do you think the gods knew what he had done? She was the godess Kushinada, and rewarded Susanuo personally by marrying him." Her mouth twitched wryly as she glanced up into the sky. "There...look, you can barely see it, but down by the southern horizon." She pointed at a small clustering of stars. "The gods allowed them both into the heavens, and there they sit. The eight headed dragon Susanuo slew is below them, but you can't see it in the sky here."

Torio felt oddly calm, relaxed; she wasn't a storyteller by a long shot, but she felt strangely content sifting through the knowledge in her head and sharing it. _Even if the story was most likely completely fabricated._

Nobbs clapped his hands. "A worthy tale! I won't be recallin' their fancy names but I'll remember the tale. When we sail to the warmer seas of the south, I'll be sure to keep a steady eye for yer 8 headed beastie." He chuckled. "Yer Master lets you stay up late, boy. He seems a goodly fellow, kind to ye at the very least."

He rummaged through a small bag besides him a moment and then handed her a piece of dried pork, before pulling out a scratched up spyglass. "Quiet night, lads. Even the wind is dyin' down. The seas be asleep." He scanned the horizons and then offered the spyglass to Torio. "Have a gander, lad."

Torio took the spyglass, and discreetly wiped it on her tunic. "My master..." She lifted the glass to her eye, smiling slightly. She seemed to have an affinity for "serving" mages. "He's very kind to me," she said quietly, peering through the scope curiously. She scanned the horizon; the night was clear and she could see a few strange, dark shapes against the sky, marking the scattered islands that dotted the Sea of Swords. She turned slowly, absently scanning the waters; she caught the white, sharply pointed shape of Icepeak in the glass, and for a moment she almost swore she could see the dark shadow of a sail passing in front of it, the northern lights dancing merrily in the sky...

She pulled the glass from her eye quickly and passed it back to Nobbs, feeling the blood drain from her face. _Just a story._ She said, quickly, "I suppose it is late...I should be getting back down to the deck."

Davey grinned, "Ah, ye be a mama's boy indeed. Hop aboard again, I'll be settling ye on the deck." The sailor helped Torio climb from the crow's nest, to the ropes and then onto his back. He began climbing down, going so fast that he seemed to be practically falling down to the deck; but his sure hands never missed a rope.

His feet hit the wood with a muffled thud and he dropped Torio back down. " 'ey now lad, if ere ye be wanting to visit old Nobbs or me up top, just holla'." He gave Torio a solid punch on the arm before he walked away, whistling.

Torio staggered slightly when her feet touched the deck once more, but merely nodded at Davey as the man numbly shot back up the robes, his shape becoming a mere shadow against the sails as he took up his post again. She brushed down her clothing, turning...and then Carmen's voice floated towards her through the darkness, and she saw his hunched shape in the doorway.

Old Carmen was standing in the doorway leading down below deck. "Would yer Master be wanting a nightly drink b'fer bed, 'lad' ?"

She remembered his sharp gaze on her when she had slipped from the chow hall. Torio approached him cautiously, her voice hushed. "He's asleep already; but I could bring him something, I suppose, for when he wakes up." She stood in front of him, his hook catching a sliver of moonlight and sending a gleam reflecting back into his face; he was old and wizened and his beard looked as matted as a crow's nest, but he was eyeing her shrewdly.

Torio felt her shoulders slump slightly in mute resignation, but she merely crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared up at him. "Is it that obvious?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Old Carmen smiled kindly at Torio when she owned up to it. "Yes to some - but c'mon to the galley; we'll talk where there be no prying eyes or ears." He led her back to the small chow hall and closed the crooked door. The fire in the cooking pit was low and he shoved some mulled wine into her hands. "Wine fer the lady."

The cook leaned back in his chair, analysing her a moment. "Lass, I 'ave spent o'er 50 years aboard a ship or some other; ye think I wouldn't know it when a woman walked the decks? Yer walk's too light, dainty girl. And ye didn't hide these..." He tapped her hips smartly but gently with his hook. "Ye shake it when ye move. Ye've got a woman's shape through and through."

Old Carmen twisted the tip of his gray-white beard and continued, "No fear though, lass. Those that know won't be saying a word, as they be hatin' Luskan with their mighty black 'earts and those that don't know be too loaded to the canons to figger ye out. The men and their Cap'n be of the honorable types, they'll lay their life down to protect a lady."

The galley was warm and almost too small for two people, but she gratefully took the mug of wine between her hands and swallowed a mouthful; the taste wasn't too terrible, and it heated her from the inside out. She leaned against something...(_a barrel?_) and looked at him squarely. "I suppose I owe you and your crew thanks for your discretion," she said lightly, her mouth twisting in a wry smile. Spending years perfecting a sultry, swaying walk probably would prove something of a disadvantage when she suddenly had to play a boy.

The cook gave her another intelligent look. "So ye be the lass, eh?"

She would have to be a dullard to not know what he meant. Torio took another drink before answering again, swirling the wine in her mouth as if it were some fine vintage instead of spiced and warmed table wine. "I suppose I am," she said quietly. Her eyes narrowed sharply, her heart suddenly thudding in her chest. "What...exactly did he tell you?"

Old Carmen laughed, "Oy, I be teasin' the lad. Looked like he needed a friendly ear, he did - them wizardly types be one fer bottlin' up their feelings til they burst. But he spoke well of ye, lass. Implied ye were the only one in his heart, he did, ya right prickly gal."

He stood and went to the hanging netting with the oranges and pulled one from it. He sat back down on the rickety chair and speared the orange on his hook before he began peeling it. "He cares about ya, he does. Old Carmen told him to follow ye at all cost, lass, so if he be takin' me advice, ye can thank me later by sendin' me oranges. But only if ye be feelin' the same about him; men can be foolhardy foolish with wimminfolk."

Torio felt her cheeks flush insensibly. She felt a slightly giddy wave of pleasure rush through her..._only one in his heart..._ She coughed quickly, running a hand through her unruly hair. "I'll make sure you get those oranges," she said, chuckling lightly. She watched in mild fascination as the large, rather ungainly looking hook seemed to make short work of the orange peel in a dexterous and almost dainty fashion. "Quite handy with that, aren't you?"

Old Carmen waved his hook at her. "Lost me hand in a battle with a mad baboon in the depths of the Chultan jungle ere one unfortunate trip south when I was a fresh faced lad of yesteryears. When they be saying 'Don't pet the monkey', lass...heed their advice and don't pet him." The old cook snickered a moment and then stuffed a slice of the orange in his mouth. "And like all men, he be appreciating yer...ale cups, as he put it."

She felt the blush deepen slightly at the mention of "ale cups." She'd heard more blatant comments made on her physique before, but she was inordinately pleased and slightly embarrassed that Sand found her body worth a notable mention, despite his protestations that he only truly cared for her mind. "I'll...remember to thank him for being so appreciative, I suppose." Torio drank another swallow of wine, feeling a steady warmth suffusing her skin. "Hmmm...I think both of us are rather skilled at bottling up feelings, as you put it." She frowned into her mug, then glanced up at him, her eyes amused. "What do you think I should do with him, Master cook?"

He offered her a piece of orange before taking another piece into his mouth, winking jovially at her. "Aye, ye 'thank' him and then tell yer man to send me oranges in thanks. A sailing man can ne'er have too many oranges. And don't give me none of that 'what should I be doin' with him' filth. If ye love him, let him follow ye and if ye don't, cut the lad loose, bleedin' 'eart and all. T'aint fair otherwise." He pointed his hook at her. "But fer his sake and all our sakes, I be hoping ye love him cause we've got no need fer more of them elfy pining types. They got long lives but longer memories, those pointy-eared bastards."

Torio took the orange slice gratefully; it was sweet and cool in her mouth, and a nice alternative to the hot, somewhat tasteless stew she had half-eaten at dinner. _Bleeding heart and all._ All right, so she knew she loved him, although it generally took torture, truth serums, and epically powerful spell-casting to get her to admit it. She couldn't see Sand maudlin and pining either...sharper, maybe. Colder. The lines on his face running a bit harder, his tongue cutting a little deeper. The image was almost more unbearable than Sand wailing his grief to the winds.

"No, I won't leave him pining," she said quietly, focusing rather intensely on her mug of wine; the cup was almost empty, and so she tossed it back, emptying its contents down her throat. She smiled at the cook slightly. "Anything to avoid a morose elf on your ship, sir."

Old Carmen nodded, "Aye good to hear it, lass. If yer lad be acting like a lovesick guppy, he'll be of no use when the danger be coming - and I've no use for the useless." His eyes held a kind, amused light as he poured a second mug of the wine. "So go make yerself useful, lass - give him this here wine to warm him. And get sleep yerself; the dawn rises early on the seas. Another day and a bit and ye'll be home."

Torio took the mug of wine and affected a courtly bow, which was rather impressive considering the cramped space. "Have a good night, milord." Her voice was wry, but she smiled at the old cook in bemusement before she turned and slipped from the cabin, shutting the door quietly behind her. She made her way down the small hall below decks and stepped into the Captain's quarters.

Sand was just as she had left him, sprawled limply against the bed. Torio crept towards the table and set the wine cup down carefully, then made her way over to him. The bed sank slightly as she lay out next to him, slipping her arms around him lightly. He was breathing steadily, and the slight movements of his chest, combined with the creaking of the ship around her, finally lulled her into an exhausted sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

**Volume 2, Part XV: Outnumbered**

The only warning Sand received was a sharp cry from the decks followed by the loud boom of cannons before he was ripped violently from sleep. The iron canon ball crashed through the wooden wall of the Captain's room, sending a shower of splinters on them before utterly destroying the small table. There was a moment of confused disorientation before he heard additional shouts from above deck, the screams of injured or dying men and the return fire of their own canons.

"Torio, wake up!" Adrenalin shot through him as he scrambled to his pack for his components pouch even as the ship gave another creaking shudder from incoming fire. He ducked, crawled back to the bed, rummaging through each pouch until he found the small diamond and some pinkish granite. Quickly he cast _Stoneskin_ on Torio, following it up with a _Greater Invisibility_.

Torio's eyes snapped open blearily; her ears were full of a cacophony of sound; the ship shuddered and shook as echoes of cannon fire boomed through the air. She heard the heavy thuds of running feet and shouting voices as the crew moved outside the door. Before she could wriggle off the bed and plant her feet on the deck, Sand was casting, and she felt a strange stiffening along her entire body before once again she winked invisible. "Wha..." She staggered forward, staring at the hole in the cabin wall; splinters littered the floor, and the table was completely destroyed, shredded bits of map and parchment buried under piles of broken wood.

She glanced at Sand, knowing he couldn't see her, and moved to where she had discarded most of her things; her belt was back around her waist, the daggers sheathed securely in them. Her mouth felt dry as she said, "I suppose they caught up with us." She slipped to the door, saying in a quiet parody of the day that all of this madness began, "Ladies first," before running out the door and up onto the main deck of the ship.

It was utter chaos. They were flanked starboard and aft by at least four ships that were as big, if not bigger, than the _Lusty Luskan._ Sailors were swarming the deck, many of them dropping into the hull of the ship to work the Luskan's own cannons, while others were tugging on lines, drawing sails, or staking a stand at the rails with crossbows. She could hear Abelor shouting somewhere, but couldn't catch sight of him; her eyes were momentarily fixated on a brightly uniformed figure standing on the bow of the aft-most ship.

_Drakken._

Torio was up and out the door before Sand could even tell her to stop, wait or even stay behind. "You foolish girl!" he hissed between his teeth even as he was pulling out components for his own _Stoneskin_ and _Greater Invisibility _protections. Once the spells were in place, taking a lot longer it seemed as he listened to the madness above him, he bolted up to the deck...and nearly had half a mind to run back down and hide.

_Four ships. They had sent four ships. _

Torio was nowhere to be seen, thankfully and Sand practically crawled hands and knees to where Abelor was, tripping over sailors and trying to not look at the bodies on deck. "Captain! I'm here but invisible! How did they surprise us?"

Abelor spun around, trying to locate the wizard by his voice, "Sand! Some kind of magic - they were all cloaked, invisible. Didn't appear until they attacked! You have to take out the ships nearest to us before they climb aboard! Go, handsomely!"

Sand scrambled away from Abelor, towards the rail. A huge looming warship was pulling along side the Lusty Luskan, her canons aimed at the ship. He had no idea what constituted good naval warfare but figured now was a good a time as any for a _Fireball._ He rubbed a small handful of yellow sulfur powder in his hands and cast towards the deck of the nearest ship just as their canons fired again. There was a satisfying burst of orange light and then Sand was knocked from his feet when the cannon balls struck his own ship.

Torio fell to the deck as the second round of cannon fire slammed into their hull. She could hear bodies hitting the deck around her, cursing and scrambling feet as sailors struggled upright again. "Third broadside, me lads!" shouted a voice close to her ear; she saw Davey scramble down into the hatch that led into the hull, and a small group respond to his command by pulling on the sails. Robbie was at the tiller, but he was soon replaced by a grim looking Abelor who took a hold of the wheel and spun it madly. The ship groaned and lurched, and began turning, so that the four ships at their back were suddenly facing them at an angle.

Torio saw that one of the ships was burning, the sails catching fire like dry kindling and sending the flames rushing down towards the deck. Men were scrambling, hauling buckets of seawater up and attempting to control the blaze, but it was moving hungrily over the vessel. Drakken's ship was now moving closer to theirs, the crew pulling ropes from below deck and obviously preparing to board them.

She kept to the rails, feeling somewhat helpless; she could only watch as another round of cannon fire was sent their way, and the small iron rounds tore into their wooden hull; a few indeterminate screams from below decks announced that some of the rounds found their mark, and then quite suddenly, the skies rumbled above them...

...the skies? It had been a clear night only a few hours earlier, but now thick, heavy clouds were roiling over the sails; there was a flash, and a deafening crack of lightning, and then suddenly a deluge opened above them and the rain came pouring down. She heard curses, fearful shouting...the ship that had been blazing merrily moments before began hissing and spitting steam as the flames were doused, the blackened, fire-weakened hull of the ship creaking noisily under the sudden added weight of driving water. A look towards the third ship revealed a hooded figure gesturing languidly on the bow of a ship.

_Bodaes,_ She reached out with her thoughts. _They've a spell caster...watch yourself._

Sand looked up as the rain came pouring down, matting his hair down onto his face. He had to make a split second decision of who was the greater danger - Drakken or the spell caster. He grabbed what bits of railing were left and hauled himself to his feet; Drakken's ship was now dangerously close - so close he could make out the details of each and every sailor getting ready to board them...shiny buttons on uniforms, polished boots, the grinning faces of men knowing they are about to win a battle...

_Helkaer... _He glanced wildly about. Still invisible. He had no illusions about what would happen to her if they were captured, being the only woman aboard the ship. He had heard the tales on the Docks, heard the sailors who often frequented the Sunken Flagon bragging… _Stay by Abelor. He will protect you. _

It seemed it was up to him to handle the spell caster. He would have to trust that the sailors would be able to handle the raiding party and Sand really didn't feel like taking another sword through the torso anyway. He ran along the railing of the ship, bumping into sailors firing their crossbows haphazardly at the men preparing to board, trying to get closer to the third ship and the hooded figure. The air was full of sheer noise; the deck was wet and slippery.

The mage suddenly turned her head towards Sand and with a flick of her wrists, she dispelled his invisibility. Their own ship returned fire again, the loud cannonade blocking out all other sounds for a second. Sand could smell the gunpowder mixed in with sea salt and blood; wholly unpleasant as he continued to stumble closer to the other ship.

Sea spray washed over the deck as the ship keeled slightly, the ropes from Drakken's boat being tossed across. Men began sliding over the short span of water, all manner of weapons clenched in their teeth. A few of the sailors began instantly sawing at the ropes attached to the grapnels hooked against the railing, and quite a number of them snapped; but it was nearly impossible to stop the incoming tide of enemies, and Torio found herself sprinting and stumbling across the deck, leaping up onto the helm where Abelor wrestled with the tiller. "Abelor!"

"'Ere, lass!" He groped wildly at her invisible form, and grabbed her by the back of her collar and yanked her up in front of him, shoving her fingers around the pegs of the wheel. "It's all yers! Try not te get yourself...or all of us...killed!" With a maniacal roar, Abelor leapt down onto the deck and drew his weapons, hollering at his men as they charged the first wave of boarders from Drakken's ship.

No time for holding back now. Sand raised his hand and cast _Meteor Swarm _onto the deck of the third ship. The mage on the boat across from them stood balanced precariously on the pointed tip of the bowspirit, and yet the cloaked figure seemed to stand stolidly even as the ship rocked and swayed with the rising storm and the pull of the ropes that bound it to the Lusty Luskan. The wooden planks of the mage's ship before him buckled as the magical meteors slammed into them, lighting them on fire; there was an eerie creaking and the ship began tilting to one side as water started rushing inside. A shout from the sailors and they began clambering over the rail, either trying to throw their grappling hooks onto the Lusty Luskan or jumping into the waters. Drakken's flagship was still standing intact however and the sights and sounds of the other sinking ship seemed to spur them faster onto the deck of the Lusty Luskan. The Luskan mage raised her arms, gesturing; as sailors screamed and fell behind the cloaked figure, she casted _Phantasmal Killer_, her fingers pointing ominously at Sand.

Suddenly Sand has a prickling sensation at the base of his skull. He whirled around and gaped a moment. Standing before him was Garius, in all his resplendent black robes, his skin pale, his eyes dark - flanked by two Shadow Reavers. An icy horror descended down his spine and he found himself unable to move or speak, his heart hammering so loudly that the sound was pulsating in his ears. The battle raging on around him faded from his consciousness, the sounds became dampened and soon Sand could only see Garius and the Reavers before him.

Garius stared at Sand in his cool calculating manner and then sneered, "Sand. You may have thwarted me once, you may have stolen the Ambassador from me, but you will not leave this ship alive and Torio will return to service under me. You will die now, elf!" Sand could see Garius casting a spell, building the magical energies between his hands and yet he was rooted, frozen to the spot. The Shadow Reavers were coming forward, their dead, skeletal arms outstretched towards him...

A crossbow thudded into the wheel inches from Torio's face. She yelped, and spun it hard in the opposite direction it was trying to turn, the water churning between the five ships; one of the enemy vessels was rapidly sinking, its hull weakened and battered by fire, and the shouts of drowning and desperate men were almost louder than the thundering of the battle on the deck below her.

She felt a flickering, panicked non-thought from Sand's mind, and her eyes found him; he was seemingly oblivious to the very life-threatening chaos around him, staring in muted, frozen horror at...

_...no..._

Garius, as she remembered him. His face pale, almost sickly, his eyes burning with a feverish intensity. She could see it as illusion, could almost follow the spellweaving around it with her eyes, but through Sand's mind it was real and solid and dangerous...

She tried to reach out to him, "Bodaes! Sand – no!"

Sand blinked when he heard Torio's thoughts pierce his brain, loud and clear like a bell despite the strange fog that had settled around him and time seemed frozen for the briefest of a second.

_It didn't make sense._

Garius had been killed and then turned into a Shadow Reaver. Sand had been there - _he had seen it_. This couldn't be real. Sand snapped his head up, his blue eyes searching for the mage on the sinking ship even as the illusions before him faded into a mist. The mage gazed back calmly at Sand before casting a spell; an electrical looking blue door suddenly appeared and the mage stepped through it and disappeared as the ship began sinking in earnest beneath the waves.

The first of the sailors rushed towards Abelor and there was a loud clash of steel upon steel. The other two ships had now stopped firing their cannons and were drawing up along side the Lusty Luskan to attempt to board her from the other side. Crossbowmen were firing into their ship; Sand saw Abelor take a bolt to upper leg, yank it out and continue hacking and slashing with his blade. One of the sailors from the first wave of attackers was pointing at the tiller, where unbeknownst to him, an invisible Torio was wrestling with the helm. "The ship be free! Lads, take control!" Two sailors broke free from the fighting and dashed up the small set of stairs.

Torio breathed, relieved, when Sand seemed suddenly spurred into action as the illusion of Garius vanished; and then a sailor was launching himself at her..._at her? but she was still invisible..._ She kicked out her foot as his hands reached for the wheel, and he stumbled back, a look of confused surprise washing over his face. His partner shouted, "Stop foolin' around, ye swine!" and reached out, knocking Torio forward into the wheel. He cursed, stumbled; his hands, briefly, rested on her shoulders to steady himself, and she heard him mutter, "What in the hells..." before the ship swung precariously sideways, the wheel slipping from her grip.

She swung her small, tightly bound fist into the man's startled face, gasping in pain as her knuckles connected with his nose in a spectacular spray of blood. Her hand smarted fiercely before going unpleasantly numb, and she turned back, latching on to the wheel and throwing her entire body into getting it back under control. She heard a shout; "Hark, lad, there's somethin' there!" and "No shite, ye daft bastard, look at me nose!" And then a brief scuffle as one of Abelor's men..._Robbie_...slipped up to the helm and barreled into them, swinging a sword in one hand and what looked like a broken piece of shipwood in another.

Crossbow bolts whizzed overhead once again, and Torio had the presence of mind to duck as one clipped neatly past her ear. A moment later she heard a loud _thunk! _and her left hand suddenly and without warning exploded in pain. She cried out in agony, and then cursed fluently, losing her grip on the wheel...which proved to be disastrous, as she was effectively pinned to it and nearly landed face first onto the deck. A small bolt was neatly embedded through the palm of her hand, pinning her to the tiller of the ship. In a strange, suspended moment, she hooked her elbow around the pegs and pulled the wheel back into place, watching blood spill out against the splintered wood from seemingly nowhere at all.

By the hells, the pain was almost unbearable; every little nudge of the tiller sent agonizing shocks up her arm. _Oh shite, how do these louts do this every day, I'll never know..._She heard a gurgling scream behind her, and prayed to the gods that it wasn't Robbie.

There was a pale flash of blue directly in front of her...on the other side of the wheel, poised precariously on the railing that separated the helm from the main deck, stood a cloaked, hooded figure. A pair of dainty, pale hands reached up, pulling the hood back from a finely sculpted, hawk-like face; the woman's short, blonde hair was cropped close to her head in a riot of waves, and her eyes were a pale green, staring hard directly into Torio's face. _ She could _see _her..._

"Hello, Ambassador," she said evenly.

* * *

Sand ducked as he heard the familiar whizzing of bolts coming his way and exhaled in relief as the incoming projectiles thudded into barrels and masts around him. The mage then lost his balance as the ship swung crazily from side to side; he slipped and fell hard on the deck, landing on his just healed shoulder. He inhaled audibly in pain; glancing up at the helm to see who was the madman steering he was surprised to see no one at the tiller. He rolled himself against the sides of the ship and pressed himself to the deck, catching his breath. Nobody seemed to be attacking him yet. Most of the boarded sailors were busy fighting Abelor and his crew. The bolts were still being fired with alarming frequency and every time Sand tried to stand up, another volley would send him back into cover.

Suddenly an excruciating pain ripped through his mind, blinding him in a white hot agony. Sand gasped and then looked up. He caught the blue flash from the corner of his eyes and suddenly the Luskan mage was standing in front of the wheel. The elf knew, without a doubt, that Torio was there, the invisible pilot to this ship.

There would be no way for him to get to her in time; he would have to fight through the crowds fighting Abelor at the base of the stairs; they were all moving and clashing swords...

Sometimes the best solutions were the simplest. Sand stuck his fingers into his components pouch and pulled out a very fine thread of webbing and cast _Web_ into the mass of fighting sailors, causing the whole fray to become stuck in a mass of sticky white strands, before screaming to Abelor, "Help her! Help her!" Keep low, he ran closer to the mage and cast _Greater Dispel Magic _on her as the second ship pulled up alongside the Lusty Luskan and the sailors began throwing ropes over to board.

* * *

The mage was chanting in front of her as she struggled to hang on to the wheel, and then just as she felt a shimmering, shifting along her body, a string of webbing shot from the far end of the writing battle on the deck, and sailors were suddenly struggling to stab each other and cut through sticky webbing simultaneously. She heard Sand screaming, and simultaneously felt a small jab of terror echo through her mind...

She could suddenly see herself again; the mage smiled down at her, the spells on Torio's body suddenly gone. The sight of the bolt driven through the back of her hand, the brilliant scarlet blood and the way the fine, slender muscles and tendons beneath her skin tightened in pain every time the tiller moved made her stomach lurch queasily, and she realized her breath was coming hard and fast, little white spots beginning to dot her vision.

The mage in front of her lifted her hands, her fingers outstretched so that they were almost touching Torio's face; behind her, Abelor was running crookedly towards them, his shape a mere blur. The mage paused for a moment, a fleeting expression of confusion crossing her face. She half turned, her green eyes searching the deck behind her; she seemed to slump slightly, her imposing figure wilting a fraction, and small threads of light seemed to fall away from her as magic buzzed in the air around her.

_Sand!_

The mage was spitting incantations, her eyes still fixed on a point on the deck. _Oh hells!_ Torio gripped the wheel with her right hand and threw her body to the right, letting out a frustrated, painful, smothered cry as the wheel spun violently under her grasp, points of fire shooting through her hand and up her arm. The ship lurched drunkenly, ropes snapping and grapnels from the boarding vessels tearing through the rail and flying backwards, their sharply pointed hooks coming back down again with vicious speed. She heard a grunt behind her as she moved; a blade thrust where her body had just been, its metallic edge grating against the spokes of the wheel before catching there and flying across the deck wildly, the sailor that had lunged at her cursing as he was thrown to the deck.

There was a crunching, screaming noise of tearing wood as the aft end of the Lusty Luskan ground against Drakken's ship, the screams of falling sailors sharply cut off between the two smashing hulls. Bodies swayed and fell into each other, sailors flying overboard. The mage was tossed in the middle of her spell casting, tumbling to the deck below the helm, and then Abelor was scrambling up onto the helm. "Still alive, lass?"

"No!" She screamed, twisting the wheel back upright. "Godsdamnit, get me off of this thing!" The muscles in her hand were beginning to spasm uncontrollably, and the sailor behind her began struggling to his feet, drawing a curved kukri from his sash.

The mage struggled to her feet, rage in her pale green eyes as she thrust a hand outwards, no longer seeming to care who she caught in her spells as long as Sand was caught, as well. She pulled a small crystal sphere from her robe, incanting hurriedly, and gestured; the sphere flew forward, expanding into an explosion of frost as the mage cast _Otiluke's Freezing Sphere_...the sea spray flying over the deck froze instantly and fell into the fighting sailors beneath, slicing into the writhing mass on top of the blast of frigid, icy air propelling into Sand.

* * *

Looking up at the helm, Sand saw Torio materialize before him, her face pale but determined. She was wrestling with the steering wheel, even as enemy sailors attacked and Abelor ran up, she stayed at her post. Sand blinked; he never knew she would be so dedicated. He saw her wrenched the wheel hard to the right and Sand was thrown along with all the other sailors back to the deck, sprawling out on his stomach and getting the air knocked from his lungs. There was a very very short moment when no sounds of battle could be heard as the two ships slammed into each other; the Lusty Luskan was lifted up for a second from the water before crashing back down, sending water flying onto the deck.

As Sand glanced up, dazed, he could see the mage and then saw nothing but the scintillating crystal sphere. "Oh sweet Mystra..." He ducked in head into his arms and rolled to the side just as the burst of icy energy blasted into his back. It felt as though the water in his body and the air vapors in his lungs were being frozen from the inside out; the cold was burning and Sand struggled to breathe as the frost sunk into his flesh and moved through his body. He was vaguely aware of thudding footfalls as the sailors clambering aboard the Lusty Luskan who hadn't been knocked into the waters by Torio's maneuvers were jumping onto the deck. Sand scrabbled weakly against the wood and then with a muted horror realized, because both he and the deck had been wet from the splashing ocean - he was now quite effectively frozen to the deck. He tugged but his robes held fast to the wood, the icy crystals meshing him to the deck. Lifting his head, he saw the mage circling him in an almost predatory manner, preparing another spell. Pointing his finger in her general direction, he cast _Finger of Death, _a desperate, last ditch effort, and not even bother to see if it worked, continued tugging on his frozen robe, slowly ripping the fabric from the wood and freeing himself even as the sounds of battle started up again.

The wizardess flew off of her feet as Sand's spell thudded into her body; with all of her protections gone she flew back a few feet and tumbled into the mast of the ship, sliding to the deck. Blood trickled from her mouth as she gasped in pain, her face contorted with agony and rage. She crawled forward, fumbling with her robes, coughing blood out onto the deck as she fingered a small component pouch, reaching in for something...

The mage suddenly flung a handful of pebbles onto the deck and wrapped her fingers around a discarded long sword; with final word of her incantation, she flung the sword towards Sand, casting _Sword of Darkness._ It flew straight as an arrow towards the wizard...

...and then Chancey shouted, hurling himself into Sand and knocking him flat onto his back, the now magically blackened and shadowy sword burying itself deep into the young sailor's back. The young man stared down at Sand, his face paling, every small capillary and spiderwebbing network of veins under his skin suddenly visible and darkening from vivid red to smokey grey as the spell drained him. His mouth opened, closed, opened again...and then he fell forward, stiff as a wooden board, thudding motionless against the deck, the sword dissolving into dust as the wizardess howled in rage and frustration. Sand stood shakily, facing off against the Luskan once again, his robes torn into tatters and still white from the frost.

* * *

Abelor took a quick step towards Torio but then shouted, "Just a moment, lass! Hold on just a moment!" and swung his cutlass at the advancing sailor wielding the kukri. He used his momentum to shove the man back, and then swung his fist hard into his jaw. The sailor tumbled, tripping over Robbie's body and fell onto his back. Even as Abelor swung his blade down towards the man's neck, the sailor had the curved blade embedded in the Captain's calf. Abelor cursed loudly but sank the cutlass down, sending a bright red splatter onto the deck. He rapidly withdrew and blade and turned back to Torio, when suddenly Drakken leapt from his flagship onto the deck of the smaller mercenary boat. The harbor master hobbled for only a moment and then held out a thin rapier pointed towards the captain's neck.

"Captain. Well met. Call off your crew and we'll let you live. All we want is the wizard and his companion. The rest of you can go. You are clearly outnumbered here."

Abelor's chin jutted up into the air as Drakken's rapier pressed into his flesh. "Ye've got me at a bit of a disadvantage here," he said almost amiably. "Ye see, 'tis hard for a dull sea captain like me to be believin' ye'll keep your word when...beggin' yer pardon, o' course...ye already broke it by followin' us here." Torio was wriggling madly against the wheel, trying to hold the tiller still and steady and pull the bolt from her hand simultaneously, whimpering in pain. Fresh sailors were dropping onto the deck from the remaining ships every second, and it was clear that though Abelor's crew were the more skilled (or more desperate) men, it was also clear that they were tiring; a small group of men leapt onto the boat behind Drakken and surrounded them, steel being drawn with ominous _shrriiiiiiiiiks! _that seemed to echo louder than the cries of fighting, bleeding, and dying men.

Drakken clucked his tongue. "Captain," he said quietly. "I am _offering_ you and your men a chance to live; I would suggest you wisely negotiate for your freedom." The man's face barely even flinched. "Otherwise I shall forgo negotiation altogether." His blade flicked almost imperceptibly, and one of the sailors turned towards the wheel where Torio was cursing and struggling frantically, and without preamble drove his blade into her back, just to the right of her spine, the sword sinking into her flesh and eliciting a shocked, agonized scream from her throat.

_Oh gods oh gods oh gods oh gods Sandsandsandsandsand..._ Brilliant, white hot light flashed through her mind and for a moment she couldn't feel anything...

As the sailor moved to slide it out, Drakken held up a hand. "Hold," he said calmly. "Well, Captain?"

* * *

Her pain, her fear, her call for him all hit Sand squarely. Her thoughts seared through his mind and seemed to pierce his very soul, rendering him utterly and completely incapable of doing anything other than helping her at all cost. His heart clenched, his breathing caught and surprisingly, he felt hot tears spring to his eyes. He staggered and then fell to his knees. He could feel the cold blade inside her, staying, twisting - he could almost feel her blood pouring out, dripping in a steady cascade, as if it were his own. His eyes stared up blankly, ignoring the sailors surrounding him, ignoring the mage who was approaching him and casting.

He had to get her away, get her away from all this. Every rational thought that entered his mind was replaced by panicky, fluttering agitation. _Get her away. Get her away_. It was the only thought running through his mind as he began casting, his back burning from where he could feel the blade embedded in her flesh.

The familiar powerful magic was burning him up. Sand could feel the electricity of it crackle in the air; even the mage had stopped her casting and everyone was backing up. The air around him seemed to rarefy and then compress. He had given her one _Wish_ yesterday; he would give her another today. He focused his eyes and looked up at her standing at the helm. She really was beautiful; it seemed as though her whole body was glowing with a soft, diffused light as she stared down at him.

_Goodbye Torio. I love you._

The spell burst from Sand's body, washing the entire area in a white light, shaking the entire ship. Every person on the ship was knocked to the deck and there was a tremendous growing rumble that exploded with a resonating bang. Sand smiled and sighed; then fell forward on the deck, unconscious.

Where once Torio had stood, speared by the blade, and nailed by the bolt, was nothing more than faint wisps of mist.

The ships were completely silent for a long, heavy moment, the only noise the sound of the ships grinding against each other, timbers creaking and the wounded and dying groaning. All eyes shifted between the unconscious elf facedown on the deck, and the bloodstained blade still held in the hands of the nonplussed sailor where Torio had been pinned a moment before.

Drakken was the first to speak. "The wizard," he said, his voice sharp and quiet. "On to my ship." Men moved, sprinting down towards the deck. Sand was hauled upwards, his head lolling limply as they drug him up onto the helm and then past, practically throwing him onto Drakken's ship. Abelor's face was stony, his crew silent as they watched, held hostage by countless blades and impossible odds. The wizardess dragged herself after the sailors, limping painfully.

As the last of his men spilled back onto his ship, Drakken nearly smiled. "I hope you won't take this personally, Captain," he said smoothly. "But you should have negotiated when you had the chance." He backed up onto his ship, his sword still raised, innumerable crossbows trained on Abelor and his crew. As soon as his booted feet struck the deck of his own vessel, he barked out, "Scuttle her!"

As his ship pulled away with a grinding _crack!_ of separating hulls, the cannons fired up once again...

The three attacking ship pulled away as the Lusty Luskan began to tilt and sink below the waters, the multiple holes made by the cannons filling rapidly with the sea. Abelor shouted to his men, "Abandon ship! Abandon ship! Sink or swim, lads, make for shore!"

Drakken eyed the chaos before him briefly, before turning to the nearest sailor. "Secure the elf; tie him up and gag him. I don't need more spell casting like we just saw aboard that ship. Have First Mate Bri'ila examine my ship to see how seaworthy she is; then we make straight for Luskan. Keep the wizard alive and treat him well. I know some will pay handsomely for him."

The churning waters soon swallowed the Lusty Luskan, the waves settling and roiling, white capped against the smooth deep blue of the sea. There were small, fluttering shapes in the water that could have been swimming...or drowning sailors. Three sets of sails disappeared along the horizon, limping back north...back towards Luskan.

**FIN Volume 2  
To Be Continued in Volume 3 Met and Parted**


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